THE 


John  M.  Webb 
Library 


Presented  to 

TRINITY  COLLEGE  LIBRARY 

By  Mrs.  John  M.  Webb 


1917 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 
in  2016 


https://archive.org/details/historyofeuropea21leck 


/ 


EUROPEAN  MORALS 


VOL.  II 


HISTORY  OF 

EUROPEAN  MORALS 

FROM  AUGUSTUS 
TO  CHARLEMAGNE 


BY 

WILLIAM  EDWARD  HARTPOLE  LECKY,  M.  A. 


THIRD  EDITION , REVISED 


IN  TWO  VOLUMES 
VOL.  II 


y x j / d 

NEW  YORK 

D.  APPLETON  AND  COMPANY 

1S98 


Authorized  Edition. 


/ 7 C , ? 

L if  6 / ^ 

/.  *2- 

CONTENTS 

OF  THE  SECOND  VOLUME. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

FROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CIT ARLEMAGNE. 

PAGE 


Difference  between  the  moral  teaching  of  a philosophy  and 

that  of  a religion 1 

Moral  efficacy  of  the  Christian  sense  of  sin  . . . . 3 

Dark  views  of  human  nature  not  common  in  the  early  Church  . 5 

The  penitential  system 6 

Admirable  efficacy  of  Christianity  in  eliciting  disinterested 

enthusiasm 8 

Great  purity  of  the  early  Christians  . . . . .11 

The  promise  of  the  Church  for  many  centuries  falsified  . . 12 

General  sketch  of  the  moral  condition  of  the  Byzantine  and 

Western  Empires  . . . . . . . .13 

The  question  to  be  examined  in  this  chapter  is,  the  cause  of 

this  comparative  failure  . . . . . ..17 


First  Conscqticnce  of  Christianity,  a new  Sense  of  the  Sanctity  of 


Human  Life 

This  sense  only  very  gradually  acquired  . . . .17 

Abortion. — Infanticide  . . . . . . . . 20 

Care  of  exposed  children.— History  of  foundling  hospitals  . 32 


VI 


CONTENTS  OF 


FAGB 

Suppression  of  the  gladiatorial  shows  .....  34 

Aversion  to  capital  punishments  . . . . . . 38 

Its  effect  upon  persecutions  . . . . . . .49 

Penal  code  not  lightened  by  Christianity  . . . . . 41 

Suicide 43-61 


8econd  Consequence  of  Christianity,  to  teach  Universal  Brother- 
hood 

Laws  concerning  slavery 62 

The  Church  discipline  and  services  brought  master  and  slave 

together  ..........  66 

Consecration  of  the  servile  virtues  . . . . . . 68 

Impulse  given  to  manumission  ......  69 

Serfdom  . , . . . . . . . . 70 

Ransom  of  captives  ........  72 

Charity. — Measures  of  the  Pagans  for  the  relief  of  the  poor  . 73 

Noble  enthusiasm  of  the  Christians  in  the  cause  of  charity  . 79 

Their  exertions  when  the  Empire  was  subverted  . . . 81 

Inadequate  place  given  to  this  movement  in  history  . . 84 

Two  Qualifications  to  our  Admiration  of  the  Charity  of  the  Church 

Theological  notions  concerning  insanity 85 

History  of  lunatic  asylums  .......  88 

Indiscriminate  almsgiving.—  The  political  economy  of  charity.  90 

Injudicious  charity  often  beneficial  to  the  donor  . . . 95 

History  of  the  modifications  of  the  old  views  about  charity  . 96 

Beneficial  effect  of  the  Church  in  supplying  pure  images  to  the 

imagination 99 

Summary  of  the  philanthropic  achievements  of  Christianity  . 100 

The.  Growth  of  Asceticism 

Causes  of  the  ascetic  movement 101 

Its  rapid  extension  . . 105 

The  Saints  of  the  Desert 

General  characteristics  of  their  legends 107 ' 

Astounding  penances  attributed  to  the  saints  . . . 107 

Miseries  and  joys  of  the  hermit  life. — Dislike  to  knowledge  , 113 

Hallucinations 116 

The  relations  of  female  devotees  with  the  anchorites  . . 120 


THE  SECOND  VOLUME. 

Celibacy  was  made  the  primal  virtue. — Effects  of  this  upon 
moral  teaching  ......... 

Gloomy  hue  imparted  t;o  religion 

Strong  assertion  of  freewill  ....... 

Depreciation  of  the  qualities  that  accompany  a strong  physical 

temperament 

Destruction  of  the  domestic  virtues. — Inhumanity  of  saints  to 
their  relations  ......... 

Encouraged  by  leading  theologians  ...... 

Later  instances  of  the  same  kind  ...... 

Extreme  theological  animosity  ....... 

Decline  of  the  Civic  Virtues 

History  of  the  relations  of  Christianity  to  patriotism 
Influence  of  the  former  in  hastening  the  fall  of  the  Empire 
Permanent  difference  between  ancient  and  modern  societies  in 

the  matter  of  patriotism 

Influence  of  this  change  on  moral  philosophy  . . . . 

Historians  exaggerate  the  importance  of  civic  virtues 

General  Moral  Condition  of  the  Byzantine  Empire 

Stress  laid  by  moralists  on  trivial  matters 

Corruption  of  the  clergy  ....... 

Childishness  and  vice  of  the  populace  . . . . . 

The  better  aspects  of  the  Empire 

Distinctive  Excellencies  of  the  Ascetic  Period 

Asceticism  the  great  school  of  self-sacrifice  . . . . 

Moral  beauty  of  some  of  the  legends  . . 

Their  Tendency  to  produce  Humanity  to  Animals 

Pagan  legends  of  the  intelligence  of  animals  . . . . 

Legal  protection  of  animals 

Traces  of  humanity  to  animals  in  the  Roman  Empire . . . 

Taught  by  the  Pythagoreans  and  Plutarch  .... 
The  first  influence  of  Christianity  not  favourable  to  it  . . 

Legends  in  the  lives  of  the  saints  connected  with  animals 
Progress  in  modern  times  of  humanity  to  animals  . . . 

The  ascetic  movement  in  the  West  took  practical  forms  . 

A ttitudo  of  the  Church  to  the  barbarians. — Conversion  of  the 
latter  ........... 


Vll 

PAOH 

122 

122 

123 

123 

124 

131 

135 

137 

140 

142 

144 

146 

147 

148 

149 

152 

153 

154 

156 

161 

162 

163 

165 

167 

168 

173 

177 

179 


vm 


CONTENTS  OF 


PAGE 

Christianity  adulterated  by  the  barbarians. — Legends  of  the 

conflict  between  the  old  gods  and  the  new  faith  . .181 

Monachism 

Causes  of  its  attraction  . . 183 

New  value  placed  on  obedience  and  humility. — Result*  of  this 

change 185 

Relation  of  Monachism  to  the  Intellectual  Virtues 

Propriety  of  the  expression  ‘ intellectual  virtue’ . . . . 188 

The  love  of  abstract  truth 189 

The  notion  of  the  guilt  of  error,  considered  abstractedly,  absurd  190 
Some  error,  however,  due  to  indolence  or  voluntary  partiality  191 

And  some  to  the  unconscious  bias  of  a corrupt  nature  . . 192 

The  influence  of  scepticism  on  intellectual  progress  . .193 

The  Church  always  recognised  the  tendency  of  character  to 

govern  opinion  .........  194 

Total  destruction  of  religious  liberty 194 

The  Monasteries  the  Receptacles  of  Learning 

Preservation  of  classical  literature. — Manner  in  which  it  was 

regarded  by  the  Church 199 

Charm  of  monkish  scholarship 203 

The  monasteries  not  on  the  whole  favourable  to  knowledge  . 205 

They  were  rather  the  reservoirs  than  the  creators  of  literature  . 208 

Fallacy  of  attributing  to  the  monasteries  the  genius  that  was 

displayed  in  theology 209 

Other  fallacies  concerning  the  services  of  the  monks  . . 209 

Decline  of  the  love  of  truth 212 

Value  which  the  monks  attached  to  pecuniary  compensations 

for  crime 213 

Doctrine  of  future  torment  much  elaborated  as  a means  of 

extorting  money 219 

Visions  of  hell 220 

Peter  Lombard 226 

Extreme  superstition  and  terrorism 228 

Purgatory  232 

\I.<ral  Condition  of  Western  Europe 

Scanty  historical  literature 23fi 

Atrocious  crimes 230 


THE  SECOND  VOLUME. 


IX 


PAGE!* 

The  seventh  century  the  age  of  saints 239 

Manner  in  which  characters  were  estimated  illustrated  by  the 

account  of  Clovis  in  Gregory  of  Tours 240 

Benefits  conferred  by  the  monasteries  .....  243 

Missionary  labours 246 

Growth  of  a Military  and  an  Aristocratic  Spirit 

Antipathy  of  the  early  Christians  to  military  life  . . . 248 

The  belief  that  battle  was  the  special  sphere  of  Providential 

interposition  consecrated  it  . . . . . . . 249 

Military  habits  of  the  barbarians 250 

Military  triumphs  of  Mohammedanism 251 

Legends  protesting  against  military  Christianity  . . . 253 

Review  of  the  influence  of  Christianity  upon  war  . . . 254 

Consecration  of  Secular  Bank 

The  Pagan  Empire  became  continually  more  despotic  . . 260 

The  early  Christians  taught  passive  obedience  in  temporal,  but 

independence  in  religious  matters 261 

After  Constantine,  their  policy  much  governed  by  their  interests  261 

Attitude  of  the  Church  towards  Julian  . . . . 262 

And  of  Gregory  the  Great  towards  Phocas  ....  263 

The  Eastern  clergy  soon  sank  into  submission  to  the  civil 

power 265 

Independence  of  the  Western  clergy. — Compact  of  Leo  and 

Pepin 266 

Effect  of  monachism  on  the  doctrine  of  passive  obedience  . . 269 

The ‘benefices’ 270 

Fascination  exercised  by  Charlemagne  over  the  popular  imagi- 
nation   271 

A king  and  a warrior  became  the  ideal  of  greatness  . . 273 

Conclusion 274 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE  POSITION  OF  WOMEN. 

Importance  and  difficulties  of  this  branch  of  history  . , 275 

Women  in  savage  life 276 


X 


CONTENTS  OF 


First  stage  of  progress  the  cessation  of  the  sale  of  wives.  — 
Rise  of  the  dowry  ........ 

Second  stage  the  establishment  of  monogamy  . . . . 

Women  in  the  poetic  age  of  Greece 

Women  in  the  historical  age  ranked  lower.  Difficulty  of  real- 
ising the  Greek  feelings  on  the  subject ...  . . 

Nature  of  the  problem  of  the  relations  of  the  sexes  . 
Recognition  in  Greece  of  two  distinct  orders  of  womanhood  . 
Position  of  the  Greek  wives 

The  Courtesans 

Elevated  by  the  worship  of  Aphrodite  . . . . . 

And  by  the  aesthetic  enthusiasm 

And  by  the  unnatural  forms  Greek  vice  assumed  . . . 

General  estimate  of  Greek  public  opinion  concerning  women  . 

Roman  Public  Opinion  much  purer 

The  flamens  and  the  vestals 

Position  of  women  during  the  Republic  ..... 

Dissolution  of  manners  at  the  close  of  the  Republic  . . . 

Indisposition  to  marriage  ....... 

Legal  emancipation  of  women  ....... 

Unbounded  liberty  of  divorce. — Its  consequences  . 

Amount  of  female  virtue  which  still  subsisted  in  Rome  . . 

Legislative  measures  to  enforce  female  virtue 
Moralists  begin  to  enforce  the  reciprocity  of  obligation  in  mar- 
riage   

And  to  censure  prostitution. — Growth  of  the  mystical  concep- 
tion of  chastity 

Christian  Influence 

Laws  of  the  Christian  emperors  . . . . . . 

Effects  of  the  penitential  discipline,  and  of  the  examples  of  the 

martyrs 

Legends  

Asceticism  greatly  degraded  marriage 

Disapproval  of  second  marriages. — History  of  the  opinions  of 
Pagans  and  Christians  on  the  subject  . . . . . 

The  celibacy  of  the  clergy. — History  and  effects  of  this  doc- 
trine ........  i 


PAGE 

270 

278 

279 

281 

282 

286 

287 


291 

292 

294 

295 


297 

298 
302 
304 
304 
306 
308 
312 

312 

316 


316 

317 

318 

319 

324 


328 


THE  SECOND  VOLUME.  xi 

PAGS 

Asceticism  produced  a very  low  view  of  the  character  of 

women. — Jewish  opinions  on  this  point  . . . . 338 

The  canon  law  unfavourable  to  the  proprietary  rights  of 

women  . ........  339 

The  barbarian  invasions  assisted  the  Church  in  purifying 

morals 340 

Barbarian  heroines  . . . . . . . ,341 

Long  continuance  of  polygamy  among  the  Kings  of  Gaul  . . 343 

Laws  of  the  barbarians  ........  344 

StroDg  Christian  assertion  of  the  equality  of  obligation  in  mar- 
riage 345 

This  doctrine  has  not  retained  its  force 346 

Condemnation  of  transitory  connections. — Roman  concubines  . 347 

A religious  ceremony  slowly  made  an  essential  in  marriage  . 351 

Condemnation  of  divorce 352 

Compulsory  marriage  abolished 353 

Condemnation  of  mixed  marriages. — Domestic  unhappiness 

caused  by  theologians  ........  353 

Relation  of  Christianity  to  the  Feminine  Virtues 

Comparison  of  male  and  female  characteristics  . . .358 

The  Pagan  ideal  essentially  masculine. — Its  contrast  to  the 

Christian  ideal 361 

Conspicuous  part  of  women  in  the  early  Church  . . . 363 

Deaconesses 365 

Widows  . 366 

Reverence  bestowed  on  the  Virgin 367 

At  the  Reformation  the  feminine  type  remained  with  Catho- 
licism   368 

The  conventual  system  . 869 

Conclusion 370 


Index 


373 


HISTORY  OF 


EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

FROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE. 

Haying  in  the  last  chapter  given  a brief,  but  I trust  nut 
altogether  indistinct,  account  of  the  causes  that  ensured  the 
triumph  of  Christianity  in  Rome,  and  of  the  character  of  the 
opposition  it  overcame,  I proceed  to  examine  the  nature  of 
the  moral  ideal  the  new  religion  introduced,  and  also  the 
methods  by  which  it  attempted  to  realise  it.  And  at  the 
very  outset  of  this  enquiry  it  is  necessary  to  guard  against  a 
serious  error.  It  is  common  with  many  persons  to  establish 
a comparison  between  Christianity  and  Paganism,  by  placing 
the  teaching  of  the  Christians  in  juxtaposition  with  corre- 
sponding passages  from  the  writings  of  Marcus  Aurelius  or 
Seneca,  and  to  regard  the  superiority  of  the  Christian  over 
the  philosophical  teaching  as  a complete  measure  of  the  moral 
advance  that  was  effected  by  Christianity.  But  a moment’s 
reflection  is  sufficient  to  display  the  injustice  of  such  a con- 
clusion. The  ethics  of  Paganism  were  part  of  a philosophy. 
The  ethics  of  Christianity  were  part  of  a religion.  The  first 
were  the  speculations  of  a few  highly  cultivated  individuals. 


2 


HISTORY  OT  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


and  neither  had  nor  could  have  had  any  direct  influence  upon 
the  masses  of  mankind.  The  second  were  indissolubly  con- 
nected with  the  worship,  hopes,  and  fears  of  a vast  religious 
system,  that  acts  at  least  as  powerfully  on  the  most  ignorant 
as  on  the  most  educated.  The  chief  objects  of  Pagan  religions 
were  to  foretell  the  future,  to  explain  the  universe,  to  avert 
calamity,  to  obtain  the  assistance  of  the  gods.  They  contained 
no  instruments  of  moral  teaching  analogous  to  our  institution 
of  preaching,  or  to  the  moral  preparation  for  the  reception  of 
the  sacrament,  or  to  confession,  or  to  the  reading  of  the  Bible, 
or  to  religious  education,  or  to  united  prayer  for  spiritual 
benefits.  To  make  men  virtuous  was  no  more  the  function 
of  the  priest  than  of  the  physician.  On  the  other  hand,  the 
philosophic  expositions  of  duty  were  wholly  unconnected 
with  the  religious  ceremonies  of  the  temple.  To  amalgamate 
these  two  spheres,  to  incorporate  moral  culture  with  religion, 
and  thus  to  enlist  in  behalf  of  the  former  that  desire  to  enter, 
by  means  of  ceremonial  observances,  into  direct  communication 
with  Heaven,  which  experience  has  shown  to  be  one  of  the 
most  universal  and  powerful  passions  of  mankind,  was  among 
the  most  important  achievements  of  Christianity.  Something 
had,  no  doubt,  been  already  attempted  in  this  direction. 
Philosophy,  in  the  hands  of  the  rhetoricians,  had  become 
more  popular.  The  Pythagoreans  enjoined  religious  cere- 
monies for  the  purpose  of  purifying  the  mind,  and  expiatory 
rites  were  common,  especially  in  the  Oriental  religions.  But 
it  was  the  distinguishing  characteristic  of  Christianity  that 
its  moral  influence  was  not  indirect,  casual,  remote,  or  spas- 
modic. Unlike  all  Pagan  religions,  it  made  moral  teaching  a 
main  function  of  its  clergy,  moral  discipline  the  leading  object 
of  its  services,  moral  dispositions  the  necessary  condition  of 
tin  due  performance  of  its  rites.  By  the  pulpit,  by  its  cere- 
monies, by  all  the  agencies  of  power  it  possessed,  it  laboured 
systematically  and  perseveringly  for  the  regeneration  of  man- 
kind. Under  its  influence,  doctrines  concerning  the  nature 


FROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE. 


3 


of  God,  the  immortality  of  the  soul,  and  the  duties  of  man, 
which  the  noblest  intellects  of  antiquity  could  barely  grasp, 
have  become  the  truisms  of  the  village  school,  the  proverbs 
of  the  cottage  and  of  the  alley. 

But  neither  the  beauty  of  its  sacred  writings,  nor  the 
perfection  of  its  religious  services,  could  have  achieved  this 
great  result  without  the  introduction  of  new  motives  to 
virtue.  These  may  be  either  interested  or  disinterested,  and 
in  both  spheres  the  influence  of  Christianity  was  very  great. 
In  the  first,  it  effected  a complete  revolution  by  its  teaching 
concerning  the  future  world  and  concerning  the  nature  of 
sin.  The  doctrine  of  a future  life  was  far  too  vague  among 
the  Pagans  to  exercise  any  powerful  general  influence,  and 
among  the  philosophers  who  clung  to  it  most  ardently  it 
was  regarded  solely  in  the  light  of  a consolation.  Christianity 
made  it  a deterrent  influence  of  the  strongest  kind.  In 
addition  to  the  doctrines  of  eternal  suffering,  and  the  lost 
condition  of  the  human  race,  the  notion  of  a minute  personal 
retribution  must  be  regarded  as  profoundly  original.  That 
the  commission  of  great  crimes,  or  the  omission  of  great 
duties,  may  be  expiated  hereafter,  was  indeed  an  idea  familiar 
to  the  Pagans,  though  it  exercised  little  influence  over  their 
lives,  and  seldom  or  never  produced,  even  in  the  case  of  the 
worst  criminals,  those  scenes  of  deathbed  repentance  which 
are  so  conspicuous  in  Christian  biographies.  But  the  Chris- 
tian notion  of  the  enormity  of  little  sins,  the  belief  that  all  the 
details  of  life  will  be  scrutinised  hereafter,  that  weaknesses 
of  character  and  petty  infractions  of  duty,  of  which  the 
historian  and  the  biographer  take  no  note,  which  have  no 
perceptible  influence  upon  society,  and  which  scarcely  elicit  a 
comment  among  mankind,  may  be  made  the  grounds  of 
eternal  condemnation  beyond  the  grave,  was  altogether  un- 
known to  the  ancients,  and,  at  a time  when  it  possessed  all 
the  freshness  of  novelty,  it  was  well  fitted  to  transform  tiro 
character.  The  eye  of  the  Pagan  philosopher  was  ever  fixed 


4 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


upon  virtue,  the  eye  of  the  Christian  teacher  upon  sin.  The 
first  sought  to  amend  men  by  extolling  the  beauty  of  holi 
ness ; the  second  by  awakening  the  sentiment  of  remorse. 
Each  method  had  its  excellences  and  its  defects.  Philosophy 
was  admirably  fitted  to  dignify  and  ennoble,  but  altogether 
impotent  to  regenerate,  mankind.  It  did  much  to  encourage 
virtue,  but  little  or  nothing  to  restrain  vice.  A relish  or 
taste  for  virtue  was  formed  and  cultivated,  which  attracted 
many  to  its  practice ; but  in  this,  as  in  the  case  of  all  our 
other  higher  tastes,  a nature  that  was  once  thoroughly  vitiated 
became  altogether  incapable  of  appreciating  it,  and  the  trans- 
formation of  such  a nature,  which  was  continually  effected  by 
Christianity,  was  confessedly  beyond  the  power,  of  philosophy. 1 
Experience  has  abundantly  shown  that  men  who  are  wholly 
insensible  to  tho  beauty  and  dignity  of  virtue,  can  be  con- 
vulsed by  the  fear  of  judgment,  can  be  even  awakened  to 
such  a genuine  remorse  for  sin  as  to  reverse  the  current  of 
their  dispositions,  detach  them  from  the  most  inveterate 
habits,  and  renew  the  whole  tenor  of  their  lives. 

But  the  habit  of  dilating  chiefly  on  the  darker  side  of  human 
nature,  while  it  has  contributed  much  to  the  regenerating 
efficacy  of  Christian  teaching,  has  not  been  without  its  disad- 
vantages. Habitually  measuring  character  by  its  aberrations, 
theologians,  in  their  estimates  of  those  strong  and  passionate 
natures  in  which  great  virtues  are  balanced  by  great  failings, 
have  usually  fallen  into  a signal  injustice,  which  is  the  more 
inexcusable,  because  in  their  own  writings  the  Psalms  of 
David  are  a conspicuous  proof  of  what  a noble,  tender,  and 
passionate  nature  could  survive,  even  in  an  adulterer  and  a 
murderer.  Partly,  too,  through  this  habit  of  operating 
through  the  sense  of  sin,  and  partly  from  a desire  to  show 
that  man  is  in  an  abnormal  and  dislocated  condition,  they 

1 There  is  a remarkable  passage  depraved,  quoted  by  Origen  in  ins 
of  Celsus,  on  the  impossibility  of  answer  to  him. 
restoring  a nature  once  thoroughly 


FROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CIIARLEMAGNE. 


5 


have  continually  propounded  distorted  and  degrading  views 
of  human  nature,  have  represented  it  as  altogether  under  the 
empire  of  evil,  and  have  sometimes  risen  to  such  a height  cf 
extravagance  as  to  pronounce  the  very  virtues  of  the  heathen 
to  he  of  the  nature  of  sin.  But  nothing  can  he  more  certain 
than  that  that  which  is  exceptional  and  distinctive  in  human 
nature  is  not  its  vice,  but  its  excellence.  It  is  not  the  sen- 
suality, cruelty,  selfishness,  passion,  or  envy,  which  are  all 
displayed  in  equal  or  greater  degrees  in  different  departments 
of  the  animal  world ; it  is  that  moral  nature  which  enables 
man  apparently,  alone  of  all  created  beings,  to  classify  his 
emotions,  to  oppose  the  current  of  his  desires,  and  to'aspire 
after  moral  perfection.  Nor  is  it  less  certain  that  in  civilised, 
and  therefore  developed  man,  the  good  greatly  preponderates 
over  the  evil.  Benevolence  is  more  common  than  cruelty  ; 
the  sight  of  suffering  more  readily  produces  pity  than  joy  ; 
gratitude,  not  ingratitude,  is  the  normal  result  of  a conferred 
benefit.  The  sympathies  of  man  naturally  follow  heroism 
and  goodness,  and  vice  itself  is  usually  but  an  exaggeration 
or  distortion  of  tendencies  that  are  in  their  own  nature  per- 
fectly innocent. 

But  these  exaggerations  of  human  depravity,  which  have 
attained  their  extreme  limits  in  some  Protestant  sects,  do  not 
appear  in  the  Church  of  the  first  three  centuries.  The  sense 
of  sin  was  not  yet  accompanied  by  a denial  of  the  goodness 
that  exists  in  man.  Christianity  was  regarded  rather  as  a 
redemption  from  error  than  from  sin,1  and  it  is  a significant 
fact  that  the  epithet  ‘ well  deserving,’  which  the  Pagans 
usually  put  upon  their  tombs,  was  also  the  favourite  inscrip- 
tion in  the  Christian  catacombs.  The  Pelagian  controversy, 
the  teaching  of  St.  Augustine,  and  the  progress  of  asceticism, 
gradually  introduced  the  doctrine  of  the  utter  depravity  of 


1 This  is  well  shown  by  Pressensd  in  his  Hist,  des  Trois  premier i 
Steeles, 


33 


6 


HISTORY  OP  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


man,  which  has  proved  in  later  times  the  fertile  source  of 
degrading  superstition. 

In  sustaining  and  defining  the  notion  of  sin.  the  early 
Church  employed  the  machinery  of  an  elaborate  legislation. 
Constant  communion  with  the  Church  was  regarded  as  of  the 
very  highest  importance.  Participation  in  the  Sacrament 
was  believed  to  be  essential  to  eternal  life.  At  a very 
early  period  it  was  given  to  infants,  and  already  in  the 
time  of  St.  Cyprian  we  find  the  practice  universal  in  the 
Church,  and  pronounced  by  at  least  some  of  the  Fathers  to 
be  ordinarily  necessary  to  their  salvation.1  Among  the  adults 
it  was  customary  to  receive  the  Sacrament  daily,  in  some 
churches  four  times  a week.2  Even  in  the  days  of  persecution 
the  only  part  of  their  service  the  Christians  consented  to  omit 
was  the  half-secular  agape.3  The  clergy  had  power  to  accord 
or  withhold  access  to  the  ceremonies,  and  the  reverence  with 
wliich  they  were  regarded  was  so  great  that  they  were  able 
to  dictate  their  own  conditions  of  communion. 

From  these  circumstances  there  very  naturally  arose  a 
vast  system  of  moral  discipline.  It  was  always  acknowledged 
that  men  could  only  rightly  approach  the  sacred  table  in 
certain  moral  dispositions,  and  it  was  very  soon  added  that 
the  commission  of  crimes  should  be  expiated  by  a period  of 
penance,  before  access  to  the  communion  was  granted.  A 


1 See  a groat  deal  of  informa- 
tion on  this  subject  in  Bingham’s 

Antiquities  of  the  Christian  Church 
(Oxford,  1853),  vol.  v.  pp.  370- 
378.  It  is  curious  that  those  very 

noisy  contemporary  divines  who 
frofess  to  resuscitate  the  man- 
ners of  the  primitive  Church,  and 
who  lay  so  much  stress  on  the 
minutest  ceremonial  observances, 
have  left  unpractised  what  was  un- 
doubtedly one  of  the  most  uni- 
versal, and  was  believed  to  be  one 


of  the  most  important,  of  the  in- 
stitutions of  early  Christianity. 
Bingham  shows  that  the  adminis- 
tration of  the  Eucharist  to  infants 
continued  in  France  till  the  twelfth 
century. 

2 See  Cave’s  Primitive  Chris- 
tianity, part  i.  ch.  xi.  At  first  the 
Sacrament  was  usually  received 
every  day ; but  this  custom  soon  de- 
clined in  the  Eastern  Church,  and 
at  last  passed  away  iu  the  West. 

* Plin.  Ep.  x.  97. 


FROM  CONST  AMTIME  TO  CHARLEMAGNE. 


7 


multitude  of  offences,  of  very  various  degrees  of  magnitude, 
suck  as  prolonged  abstinence  from  religious  services,  prenup- 
tial unchastity,  prostitution,  adultery,  the  adoption  of  the 
profession  of  gladiator  or  actor,  idolatry,  the  betrayal  of 
Christians  to  persecutors,  and  paiderastia  or  unnatural  love, 
were  specified,  to  each  of  which  a definite  spiritual  penalty 
was  annexed.  The  lowest  penalty  consisted  of  deprivation  of 
the  Eucharist  for  a few  weeks.  More  serious  offenders  were 
deprived  of  it  for  a year,  or  for  ten  years,  or  until  the  hour 
of  death,  while  in  some  cases  the  sentence  amounted  to  the 
greater  excommunication,  or  the  deprivation  of  the  Eucharist 
for  ever.  During  the  period  of  penance  the  penitent  was 
compelled  to  abstain  from  the  marriage-bed,  and  from  all 
other  pleasures,  and  to  spend  his  time  chiefly  in  religious 
exercises.  Before  he  was  readmitted  to  communion,  he  was 
accustomed  publicly,  before  the  assembled  Christians,  to 
appear  clad  in  sackcloth,  with  ashes  strewn  upon  his  head, 
with  his  hah’  shaven  off,  and  thus  to  throw  himself  at  the 
feet  of  the  minister,  to  confess  aloud  his  sins,  and  to  implore 
the  favour  of  absolution.  The  excommunicated  man  was  not 
only  cut  off  for  ever  from  the  Christian  rites;  he  was  severed 
also  from  all  intercourse  with  his  former  friends.  No  Chris- 
tian, on  pain  of  being  himself  excommunicated,  might  eat 
with  him  or  speak  with  him.  He  must  live  hated  and  alone 
in  this  world,  and  be  prepared  for  damnation  in  the  next.1 

This  system  of  legislation,  resting  upon  religious  terrorism, 
forms  one  of  the  most  important  parts  of  early  ecclesiastical 
history,  and  a leading  object  of  the  Councils  was  to  develop 
or  modify  it.  Although  confession  was  not  yet  an  habi- 
tual and  universally  obligatory  rite,  although  it  was  only 

1 The  whole  subject  of  the  printed  in  the  library  of  Anglo- 
penitential  discipline  is  treated  Catholic  Theology),  and  also  in 
minutely  in  Marshall’s  Penitential  Bingham,  vol.  vii.  Tertullian  give* 
Discipline  of  the  Primitive  Church  a graphic  description  of  the  public 
, 'first  published  in  1714,  and  re-  penances , De  Pudicit.  v.  13. 


8 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


exacted  in  cases  of  notorious  sins,  it  is  manifest  that  we  ha  78 
in  this  system,  not  potentially  or  in  germ,  but  in  full  de- 
veloped activity,  an  ecclesiastical  despotism  of  the  most 
ciushing  order.  But  although  this  recognition  of  the  right 
of  the  clergy  to  withhold  from  men , what  was  believed  to 
be  essential  to  their  salvation,  laid  the  foundation  of  the 
worst  superstitions  of  Borne,  it  had,  on  the  other  hand,  a very 
valuable  moral  effect.  Every  system  of  law  is  a system  of 
education,  for  it  fixes  in  the  minds  of  men  certain  conceptions 
of  right  and  wrong,  and  of  the  proportionate  enormity  of 
d ifferent  crimes ; and  no  legislation  was  enforced  with  more 
solemnity,  or  appealed  more  directly  to  the  religious  feelings, 
than  the  penitential  discipline  of  the  Church.  More  than, 
perhaps,  any  other  single  agency,  it  confirmed  that  conviction 
of  the  enormity  of  sin,  and  of  the  retribution  that  follows  it, 
which  was  one  of  the  Wo  great  levers  by  which  Christianity 
acted  upon  mankind. 

But  if  Christianity  was  remarkable  for  its  appeals  to  the 
selfish  or  interested  side  of  our  nature,  it  was  far  more  re- 
markable for  the  empire  it  attained  over  disinterested  enthu- 
siasm. The  Platonist  exhorted  men  to  imitate  God ; the 
Stoic,  to  follow  reason;  the  Christian,  to  the  love  of  Christ. 
The  later  Stoics  bad  often  united  their  notions  of  excellence 
in  an  ideal  sage,  and  Epictetus  had  even  urged  his  disciples  to 
set  before  them  some  man  of  surpassing  excellence,  and  to 
imagine  him  continually  near  them ; but  the  utmost  the 
Stoic  ideal  could  become  was  a model  for  imitation,  and  the 
admiration  it  inspired  could  never  deepen  into  affection.  It 
was  reserved  for  Christianity  to  present  to  the  world  an 
ideal  character,  which  through  all  the  changes  of  eighteen 
centuries  has  inspired  the  hearts  of  men  with  an  impassioned 
love;  has  shown  itself  capable  of  acting  on  all  ages,  nations, 
temperaments,  and  conditions ; has  been  not  only  the  highest 
pattern  of  virtue  but  the  strongest  incentive  to  its  practice ; 
and  has  exercised  so  deep  an  influence  that  it  may  be  truly 


PROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE. 


9 


Baid  that  the  simple  record  of  three  short  years  of  active  life 
has  done  more  to  regenerate  and  to  soften  mankind  than  ail 
the  disquisitions  of  philosophers,  and  all  the  exhortations  of 
moralists.  This  has  indeed  been  the  well-spring  of  whatever 
is  best  and  purest  in  the  Christian  life.  Amid  all  the  sins 
and  failings,  amid  all  the  priestcraft  and  persecution  and 
fanaticism  that  have  defaced  the  Church,  it  has  preserved,  in 
the  character  and  example  of  its  Founder,  an  enduring 
principle  of  regeneration.  Perfect  love  knows  no  rights.  It 
creates  a boundless,  uncalculating  self-abnegation  that  trans- 
forms the  character,  and  is  the  parent  of  every  virtue.  Side 
by  side  with  the  terrorism  and  the  superstitions  of  dogma- 
tism, there  have  ever  existed  in  Christianity  those  who 
would  echo  the  wish  of  St.  Theresa,  that  she  could  blot  out 
both  heaven  and  hell,  to  serve  God  for  Himself  alone ; and 
the  power  of  the  love  of  Christ  has  been  displayed  alike  in  the 
most  heroic  pages  of  Christian  martyrdom,  in  the  most 
pathetic  pages  of  Christian  resignation,  in  the  tenderest  pages 
of  Christian  charity.  It  was  shown  by  the  martyrs  who 
sank  beneath  the  fangs  of  wild  beasts,  extending  to  the  last 
moment  their  arms  in  the  form  of  the  cross  they  loved ; 1 
who  ordered  their  chains  to  be  buried  with  them  as  the 
insignia  of  their  warfare ; 2 who  looked  with  joy  upon  their 
ghastly  wounds,  because  they  had  been  received  for  Christ ; 3 
who  welcomed  death  as  the  bridegroom  welcomes  the  bride, 
because  it  would  bring  them  near  to  Him.  St.  Felicitas  was 
seized  with  the  pangs  of  childbirth  as  she  lay  in  prison 


1 Eusebius,  H.  E.  viii.  7. 

2 St.  Chrysostom  tells  this  of 
St.  Babylas.  See  Tillemont,  Mem. 
pour  servir  a UHist.  eccl.  tome  iii. 
p.  403. 

8 In  the  preface  to  a very 
3sscient  Milanese  missal  it  is  said 
of  St.  Agatha  that  as  sho  lay  in 
the  prison  cell,  torn  by  the  instru- 
ments of  torture,  St.  Peter  came 


to  her  in  the  form  of  a Christian 
physician,  and  offered  to  dress  her 
wounds ; but  she  refused,  saying 
that  she  wished  for  no  physician 
but  Christ.  St.  Peter,  in  the  nama 
of  that  Celestial  Physician,  com- 
manded her  wounds  to  close,  and 
her  body  became  whole  as  before, 
(Tillomont,  tome  :ii.  p.  412.) 


10 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


awaiting  the  hour  of  martyrdom,  and  as  her  sufferings  ex 
touted  from  her  a cry,  one  who  stood  by  said,  ‘ If  you  now 
suffer  so  much,  what  will  it  be  when  you  are  thrown  to  wild 
beasts  1 ’ ‘ What  I now  suffer,’  she  answered,  concerns  my- 

self alone ; but  then  another  will  suffer  for  me,  for  I will 
then  suffer  for  Him.’ 1 When  St.  Melania  had  lost  both  her 
husband  and  her  two  sons,  kneeling  by  the  bed  where  the 
remains  of  those  she  loved  were  laid,  the  childless  widow 
exclaimed,  ‘ Lord,  I shall  serve  Thee  more  humbly  and 
readily  for  being  eased  of  the  weight  Thou  hast  taken  from 
me.’  2 

Christian  virtue  was  described  by  St.  Augustine  as  ‘ the 
order  of  love.’ 3 Those  who  know  how  imperfectly  the 
simple  sense  of  duty  can  with  most  men  resist  the  energy  of 
the  passions ; who  have  observed  how  barren  Mahommedan- 
ism  has  been  in  all  the  higher  and  more  tender  virtues, 
because  its  noble  morality  and  its  pure  theism  have  been 
united  with  no  living  example;  who,  above  all,  have  traced 
through  the  history  of  the  Christian  Church  the  influence  of 
the  love  of  Christ,  will  be  at  no  loss  to  estimate  the  value  of 
this  purest  and  most  distinctive  source  of  Christian  enthu- 
siasm. In  one  respect  we  can  scarcely  realise  its  effects  upon 
the  early  Church.  The  sense  of  the  fixity  of  natural  laws  is 
now  so  deeply  implanted  in  the  minds  of  men,  that  no  truly 
educated  person,  whatever  may  be  his  religious  opinions, 
seriously  believes  that  all  the  more  startling  phenomena 
around  him — storms,  earthquakes,  invasions,  or  famines — - 
are  results  of  isolated  acts  of  supernatural  power,  and  are 
intended  to  affect  some  human  interest.  But  by  the  early 
Christians  all  these  things  were  directly  traced  to  the  Master 
they  so  dearly  loved.  The  result  of  this  conviction  was  a 
state  of  feeling  we  can  now  barely  understand.  A great  poet, 

- See  her  acts  in  Ruinart.  tutis : ordo  est  amoris.’ — Be  Cit>, 

* St.  Jerome,  Ep.  xxxix.  Dei,  xv.  22.  - 

1 ‘ Defiuitio  brevis  et  vera  vir- 


FROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE. 


11 


in  lines  which  are  among  the  noblest  in  English  literature, 
has  spoken  of  one  who  had  died  as  united  to  the  all-pervad- 
ing soul  of  nature,  the  grandeur  and  the  tenderness,  the 
beauty  and  the  passion  of  his  being  blending  with  the  kindred 
elements  of  the  universe,  his  voice  heard  in  all  its  melodies, 
his  spirit  a presence  to  be  felt  and  known,  a part  of  the  one 
plastic  energy  that  permeates  and  animates  the  globe.  Some- 
thing of  tliis  kind,  but  of  a far  more  vivid  and  real  character, 
was  the  belief  of  the  early  Christian  world.  The  universe, 
to  them,  was  transfigured  by  love.  All  its  phenomena,  all 
its  catastrophes,  were  read  in  a new  light,  were  endued  with 
a new  significance,  acquired  a religious  sanctity.  Christianity 
offered  a deeper  consolation  than  any  prospect  of  endless  life, 
or  of  millennial  glories.  It  taught  the  weary,  the  sorrowing, 
and  the  lonely,  to  look  up  to  heaven  and  to  say,  1 Thou, 
Cod,  carest  for  me.’ 

It  is  not  surprising  that  a religious  system  which  made 
it  a main  object  to  inculcate  moral  excellence,  and  which  by 
its  doctrine  of  future  retribution,  by  its  organisation,  and  by 
its  capacity  of  producing  a disinterested  enthusiasm,  acquired 
an  unexampled  supremacy  over  the  human  mind,  should 
have  raised  its  disciples  to  a very  high  condition  of  sanctity. 
There  can,  indeed,  be  little  doubt  that,  for  nearly  two  hundred 
years  after  its  establishment  in  Europe,  the  Christian  com- 
munity exhibited  a moral  purity  which,  if  it  has  been  equalled, 
has  never  for  any  long  period  been  surpassed.  Completely 
separated  from  the  Itom an  world  that  was  around  them, 
abstaining  alike  from  political  life,  from  appeals  to  the  tri- 
bunals, and  from  military  occupations ; looking  forward 
continually  to  the  immediate  advent  of  their  Master,  and 
the  destruction  of  the  Empire  in  which  they  dwelt,  and  ani- 
mated by  all  the  fervour  of  a yoimg  religion,  the  Christians 
found  within  themselves  a whole  order  of  ideas  and  feelings 
sufficiently  powerful  to  guard  them  from  the  contamination 
of  their  age.  In  their  general  bearing  towards  society,  and 


12 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


in  the  nature  and  minuteness  of  their  scruples,  they  prob- 
ably bore  a greater  resemblance  to  the  Quakers  than  to  any 
other  existing  sect.1  Some  serious  signs  of  moral  decadence 
might,  indeed,  be  detected  even  before  the  Decian  persecution ; 
and  it  was  obvious  that  the  triumph  of  the  Church,  bj 
introducing  numerous  nominal  Christians  into  its  pale,  by 
exposing  it  to  the  temptations  of  wealth  and  prosperity,  and 
by  forcing  it  into  connection  with  secular  politics,  must  have 
damped  its  zeal  and  impaired  its  purity ; yet  few  persons,  I 
think,  who  had  contemplated  Christianity  as  it  existed  in 
the  first  three  centuries  would  have  imagined  it  possible  that 
it  should  completely  supersede  the  Pagan  worship  around  it ; 
that  its  teachers  should  bend  the  mightiest  monarchs  to  their 
will,  and  stamp  their  influence  on  every  page  of  legislation, 
and  direct  the  whole  course  of  civilisation  for  a thousand 
years;  and  yet  that  the  period  in  which  they  were  so  supreme 
should  have  been  one  of  the  most  contemptible  in  history. 

The  leading  features  of  that  period  may  be  shortly  told. 
Prom  the  death  of  Marcus  Aurelius,  about  which  time  Chris- 
tianity assumed  an  important  influence  in  the  Roman  world, 
the  decadence  of  the  Empire  was  rapid  and  almost  uninter- 
rupted. The  first  Christian  emperor  transferred  his  capital  to 
a new  city,  uncontaminated  by  the  traditions  and  the  glories 
of  Paganism;  and  he  there  founded  an  Empire  which  derived 
all  its  ethics  from  Christian  sources,  and  which  continued  in 


1 Besides  the  obvious  points  of 
resemblance  in  the  common,  though 
not  universal,  belief  that  Christians 
should  abstain  from  all  weapons 
and  from  all  oaths,  the  whole 
teaching  of  the  early  Christians 
about  the  duty  of  simplicity,  and 
the  wickedness  of  ornaments  in 
dress  (see  especially  the  writings 
of  Tertullian,  Clemens  Alexan- 
drinus,  and  Chrysostom,  on  this 
subject),  is  exceedingly  like  that 
of  the  Quakers.  The  scruple  of 


Tertullian  ( De  Coronet)  about 
Christians  wearing  laurel  wreaths 
in  the  festivals,  because  laurel  was 
called  after  Daphne,  the  lover  of 
Apollo,  was  much  of  the  same  kind 
as  that  which  led  the  Quakers  to 
refuse  to  speak  of  Tuesday  or  Wed- 
nesday, lest  they  should  recognise 
the  gods  Tuesco  or  Woden.  On  the 
other  hand,  the  ecclesiastical  as- 
pects and  the  sacramental  doctrines 
of  the  Church  were  the  extrema 
opposites  of  Quakerism. 


FROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE. 


13 


existence  for  about  eleven  hundred  years.  Of  that  Byzantine 
Empire  the  universal  verdict  of  history  is  that  it  constitutes, 
with  scarcely  an  exception,  the  most  thoroughly  base  and 
despicable  form  that  civilisation  has  yet  assumed.  Though 
very  crue  and  very  sensual,  there  have  been  times  when 
cruelty  assumed  more  ruthless,  and  sensuality  more  extrava- 
gant, aspects ; but  there  has  been  no  other  enduring  civilisa- 
tion so  absolutely  destitute  of  all  the  forms  and  elements  of 
greatness,  and  none  to  which  the  epithet  mean  may  be  so  em- 
phatically applied.  The  Byzantine  Empire  was  pre-eminently 
the  age  of  treachery.  Its  vices  were  the  vices  of  men  who 
had  ceased  to  be  brave  without  learning  to  be  virtuous. 
Without  patriotism,  without  the  fruition  or  desire  of  liberty, 
after  the  first  paroxysms  of  religious  agitation,  without  genius 
or  intellectual  activity;  slaves,  and  willing  slaves,  in  both 
their  actions  and  their  thoughts,  immersed  in  sensuality  and 
in  the  most  frivolous  pleasures,  the  people  only  emerged  from 
their  listlessness  when  some  theological  subtilty,  or  some 
rivalry  in  the  chaiiot  races,  stimulated  them  into  frantic 
riots.  They  exhibited  all  the  externals  of  advanced  civilisa- 
tion. They  possessed  knowledge ; they  had  continually  before 
them  the  noble  literatur  e of  ancient  Greece,  instinct  with  the 
loftiest  heroism  ; but  that  literature,  which  afterwards  did  so 
much  to  revivify  Europe,  could  fire  the  degenerate  Greeks 
with  no  spark  or  semblance  of  nobility.  The  history  of  the 
Empire  is  a monotonous  story  of  the  intrigues  of  priests, 
eunuchs,  and  women,  of  poisonings,  of  conspiracies,  of  uniform 
ingratitude,  of  perpetual  fratricides.  After  the  conversion  of 
Constantine  there  was  no  prince  in  any  section  of  the  Homan 
Empire  altogether  so  depraved,  or  at  least  so  shameless,  as 
Kero  or  Heliogabalus ; but  the  Byzantine  Empire  can  show 
none  bearing  the  faintest  resemblance  to  Antonine  or  Marcus 
Aurelius,  while  the  nearest  approximation  to  that  character 
at  Borne  was  furnished  by  the  Emperor  Julian,  who  con- 
temptuously abandoned  the  Christian  faith.  At  last  the 


14: 


HISTORY  OR  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


Mahommedan  invasion  terminated  the  long  decrepitude  of 
the  Eastern  Empire.  Constantinople  sank  beneath  tlxe  Cres- 
cent, its  inhabitants  wrangling  about  theological  differences 
to  the  very  moment  of  their  fall. 

The  Asiatic  Churches  had  already  perished.  The  Christian 
faith,  planted  in  the  dissolute  cities  of  Asia  Minor,  had  pro- 
duced many  fanatical  ascetics  and  a few  illustrious  theologians, 
but  it  had  no  renovating  effect  upon  the  people  at  large.  It 
introduced  among  them  a principle  of  interminable  and  im- 
placable dissension,  but  it  scarcely  tempered  in  any  appreci- 
able degree  their  luxury  or  their  sensuality.  The  frenzy  of 
pleasure  continued  unabated,  and  in  a great  part  of  the 
Empire  it  seemed,  indeed,  only  to  have  attained  its  climax 
after  the  triumph  of  Christianity. 

The  condition  of  the  Western  Empire  was  somewhat 
different.  Not  quite  a century  after  the  conversion  of  Con- 
stantine, the  Imperial  city  was  captured  by  Alaric,  and  a 
long  series  of  barbarian  invasions  at  last  dissolved  the  whole 
framework  of  Roman  society,  while  the  barbarians  them- 
selves, having  adopted  the  Christian  faith  and  submitted 
absolutely  to  the  Christian  priests,  the  Church,  which  re- 
mained the  guardian  of  all  the  treasures  of  antiquity,  was 
left  with  a virgin  soil  to  realise  her  ideal  of  human  excellence. 
Nor  did  she  fall  short  of  what  might  have  been  expected.  She 
exercised  for  many  centuries  an  almost  absolute  empire  over 
the  thoughts  and  actions  of  mankind,  and  created  a civilisa- 
tion which  was  permeated  in  every  part  with  ecclesiastical 
influence.  And  the  dark  ages,  as  the  period  of  Catholic  ascen- 
dancy is  justly  called,  do  undoubtedly  display  many  features 
of  great  and  genuine  excellence.  In  active  benevolence,  in 
the  spirit  of  reverence,  in  loyalty,  in  co-operative  habits,  they 
far  transcend  the  noblest  ages  of  Pagan  antiquity,  while  in 
that  humanity'  which  shrinks  from  the  infliction  of  suffering, 
they  were  superior  to  Roman,  and  in  their  respect  for  chas- 
tity, to  Greek  civilisation.  On  the  other  hand,  they  rank 


FROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE. 


15 


immeasurably  below  tbe  best  Pagan  civilisations  in  civic  and 
patriotic  virtues,  in  the  love  of  liberty,  in  the  number  and 
splendour  of  the  great  character  they  produced,  in  the  dig- 
nity and  beauty  of  the  type  of  character  they  formed.  They 
had  their  full  share  of  tumult,  anarchy,  injustice,  and  war, 
and  they  should  probably  be  placed,  in  all  intellectual  virtues, 
lower  than  any  other  period  in  the  history  of  mankind.  A 
boundless  intolerance  of  all  divergence  of  opinion  was  united 
with  an  equally  boundless  toleration  of  all  falsehood  and  de- 
liberate fraud  that  could  favour  received  opinions.  Credulity 
being  taught  as  a virtue,  and  all  conclusions  dictated  by 
authority,  a deadly  torpor  sank  upon  the  human  mind,  which 
for  many  centuries  almost  suspended  its  action,  and  was  only 
effectually  broken  by  the  scrutinising,  innovating,  and  free- 
thinking  habits  that  accompanied  the  rise  of  the  industrial 
republics  in  Italy.  Few  men  who  are  not  either  priests  or 
monks  would  not  have  preferred  to  live  in  the  best  days  of  the 
Athenian  or  of  the  Roman  republics,  in  the  age  of  Augustus 
or  in  the  age  of  the  Antonines,  rather  than  in  any  period 
that  elapsed  between  the  triumph  of  Christianity  and  the 
fourteenth  century. 

It  is,  indeed,  difficult  to  conceive  any  clearer  proof  than 
was  furnished  by  the  history  of  the  twelve  hundred  years 
after  the  conversion  of  Constantine,  that  while  theology  has 
undoubtedly  introduced  into  the  world  certain  elements  and 
principles  of  good,  scarcely  if  at  all  known  to  antiquity, 
while  its  value  as  a tincture  or  modifying  influence  in  society 
can  hardly  be  overrated,  it  is  by  no  means  for  the  advantage 
of  mankind  that,  in  the  form  which  the  Greek  and  Catholic 
Churches  present,  it  should  become  a controlling  arbiter  of 
civilisation.  It  is  often  said  that  the  Roman  world  before 
Constantine  was  in  a period  of  rapid  decay;  that  the  traditions 
and  vitality  of  half-suppressed  Paganism  account  for  many 
of  the  aberrations  of  later  times;  that  the  influence  of  the 
Church  was  often  rather  nominal  and  superficial  than 


16 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


supreme ; and  that,  in  judging  the  ignorance  of  the  dark  ages, 
we  must  make  large  allowance  for  the  dislocations  of  society 
by  the  barbarians.  In  all  this  there  is  much  truth ; but 
when  we  remember  that  in  the  Byzantine  Empire  the  reno- 
vating power  of  theology  was  tried  in  a new  capital  free  from 
Pagan  traditions,  and  for  more  than  one  thousand  years  un 
subdued  by  barbarians,  and  that  in  the  West  the  Church,  for 
at  least  seven  hundred  years  after  the  shocks  of  the  invasions 
had  subsided,  exercised  a control  more  absolute  than  any 
other  moral  or  intellectual  agency  has  ever  attained,  it  will 
appear,  I think,  that  the  experiment  was  very  sufficiently 
tried.  It  is  easy  to  make  a catalogue  of  the  glaring  vices  of 
antiquity,  and  to  contrast  them  with  the  pure  morality  of 
Christian  writings;  but,  if  we  desire  to  form  a just  estimate 
of  the  realised  improvement,  we  must  compare  the  classical 
and  ecclesiastical  civilisations  as  wholes,  and  must  observe  in 
each  case  not  only  the  vices  that  were  repressed,  but  also  the 
degree  and  variety  of  positive  excellence  attained.  In  the 
first  two  centuries  of  the  Christian  Church  the  moral  eleva- 
tion was  extremely  high,  and  was  continually  appealed  to  as 
a proof  of  the  divinity  of  the  creed.  In  the  century  before 
the  conversion  of  Constantine,  a marked  depression  was 
already  manifest.  The  two  centimes  after  Constantine  are 
uniformly  represented  by  the  Fathers  as  a period  of  general 
and  scandalous  vice.  The  ecclesiastical  civilisation  that  fol- 
lowed, though  not  without  its  distinctive  merits,  assuredly 
supplies  no  justification  of  the  common  boast  about  the  re- 
generation of  society  by  the  Church.  That  the  civilisation 
of  the  last  three  centuries  has  risen  in  most  respects  to  a 
higher  level  than  any  that  had  preceded  it,  I at  least  firmly 
believe  ; but  theological  ethics,  though  very  important,  form 
but  one  of  the  many  and  complex  elements  of  its  excellence. 
Mechanical  inventions,  the  habits  of  industrial-  life,  the  dis- 
coveries of  physical  science,  the  improvements  of  government, 
the  expansion  of  literature,  the  traditions  of  Pagan  antiquity, 


FROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE. 


17 


have  all  a distinguished  place,  while,  the  more  fully  its  his- 
tory is  investigated,  the  more  clearly  two  capital  truths  are 
disclosed.  The  first  is  that  the  influence  of  theology  having 
for  centuries  numbed  and  paralysed  the  whole  intellect  of 
Christian  Europe,  the  revival,  which  forms  the  starting-point 
of  our  modern  civilisation,  was  mainly  due  to  the  fact  that 
two  spheres  of  intellect  still  remained  uncontrolled  by  the 
sceptre  of  Catholicism.  The  Pagan  literature  of  antiquity, 
and  the  Mahommedan  schools  of  science,  were  the  chief 
agencies  in  resuscitating  the  dormant  energies  of  Christendom. 
The  second  fact,  which  I have  elsewhere  endeavoured  to 
establish  in  detail,  is  that  during  more  than  three  centuries 
the  decadence  of  theological  influence  has  been  one  of  the 
most  invariable  signs  and  measures  of  our  progress.  In 
medicine,  physical  science,  commercial  interests,  politics,  and 
even  ethics,  the  reformer  has  been  confronted  with  theological 
affirmations  which  barred  his  way,  which  were  all  defended 
as  of  vital  importance,  and  were  all  in  turn  compelled  to 
yield  before  the  secularising  influence  of  civilisation. 

We  have  here,  then,  a problem  of  deep  interest  and  im- 
portance, which  I propose  to  investigate  in  the  present  chapter. 
We  have  to  enquire  why  it  was  that  a religion  which  was 
not  more  remarkable  for  the  beauty  of  its  moral  teaching 
than  for  the  power  with  which  it  acted  upon  mankind,  and 
which  during  the  last  few  centuries  has  been  the  source  of 
countless  blessings  to  the  world,  should  have  proved  itself 
for  so  long  a period,  and  under  such  a variety  of  conditions, 
altogether  unable  to  regenerate  Europe.  The  question  is  not 
one  of  languid  or  imperfect  action,  but  of  conflicting  agencies. 
1 a the  vast  and  complex  organism  of  Catholicity  there  were 
some  parts  which  acted  with  admirable  force  in  improving 
and  elevating  mankind.  There  were  others  which  had  a 
directly  opposite  effect. 

The  first  aspect  in  which  Christianity  presented  itself  to 
the  world  was  as  a declaration  of  the  fraternity  of  men  in 


18 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


Christ.  Considered  as  immortal  beings,  destined  for  the 
extremes  of  happiness  or  of  misery,  and  united  to  one  another 
by  a special  community  of  redemption,  the  first  and  most 
manifest  duty  of  a Christian  man  was  to  look  upon  his  fellow- 
men  as  sacred  beings,  and  from  this  notion  grew  up  the 
eminently  Christian  idea  of  the  sanctity  of  all  human  life. 
I have  already  endeavoured  to  show — and  the  fact  is  of  such 
capital  importance  in  meeting  the  common  objections  to  the 
reality  of  natural  moral  perceptions,  that  I venture,  at  the 
risk  of  tediousness,  to  recur  to  it — that  nature  does  not  tell 
man  that  it  is  wrong  to  slay  without  provocation  his  fellow- 
men.  Not.  to  dwell  upon  those  early  stages  of  barbarism  in 
which  the  higher  faculties  of  human  nature  are  still  unde- 
veloped, and  almost  in  the  condition  of  embryo,  it  is  an  his- 
torical fact  beyond  all  dispute,  that  refined,  and  even  moral 
societies  have  existed,  in  which  the  slaughter  of  men  of  some 
particular  class  or  nation  has  been  regarded  with  no  more 
compunction  than  the  slaughter  of  animals  in  the  chase.  The 
early  Greeks,  in  their  dealings  with  the  barbarians  ; the 
Romans,  in  their  dealings  with  gladiators,  and  in  some  periods 
of  their  history,  with  slaves ; the  Spaniards,  in  their  dealings 
with  Indians ; nearly  al  1 colonists  removed  from  European 
supervision,  in  then-  dealings  with  an  inferior  race ; an  im- 
mense proportion  of  the  nations  of  antiquity,  in  their  dealings 
with  new-born  infants,  display  this  complete  and  absolute 
callousness,  and  we  may  discover  traces  of  it  even  in  our 
own  islands  and  within  the  last  three  hundred  years.1  And 
difficult  as  it  may  be  to  realise  it  in  our  day,  when  the  atrocity 
of  all  wanton  slaughter  of  men  has  become  an  essential  part 
of  our  moral  feelings,  it  is  nevertheless  an  incontestable  fact 


1 See  the  masterly  description  Macaulay’s  description  of  the  feel- 
of  the  relations  of  the  English  to  mgs  of  tho  Master  of  Stair  towards 
the  Irish  in  the  reign  of  Queen  the  Highlanders.  ( History  of  Eng 
Elizabeth,  in  Froude’s  History  of  land , ch.  xviii.) 

Vngland,  ch  ixiv. ; and  also  Lord 


FROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE. 


19 


that  this  callousness  has  been  continually  shown  by  good 
men,  by  men  who  in.  all  other  respects  would  be  regarded  in 
any  age  as  conspicuous  for  their  humanity.  In  the  days  of 
the  Tudors,  the  best  Englishmen  delighted  in  what  we  should 
now  deem  the  most  barbarous  spoils,  and  it  is  absolutely 
certain  that  in  antiquity  men  of  genuine  humanity — tender 
relations,  loving  friends,  charitable  neighbours — men  in 
whose  eyes  the  murder  of  a fellow-citizen  would  have  ap- 
peared as  atrocious  as  in  our  own,  attended,  instituted,  and 
applauded  gladiatorial  games,  or  counselled  without  a scruple 
the  exposition  of  infants.  But  it  is,  as  I conceive,  a complete 
confusion  of  thought  to  imagine,  as  is  so  commonly  done, 
that  any  accumulation  of  facts  of  this  nature  throws  the 
smallest  doubt  upon  the  reality  of  innate  moral  perceptions. 
All  that  the  intuitive  moralist  asserts  is  that  we  know  by 
nature  that  there  is  a distinction  between  humanity  and 
cruelty ; that  the  first  belongs  to  the  higher  or  better  part 
of  our  nature,  and  that  it  is  our  duty  to  cultivate  it.  The 
standard  of  the  age,  which  is  itself  determined  by  the  general 
condition  of  society,  constitutes  the  natural  line  of  duty ; for 
he  who  falls  below  it  contributes  to  depress  it.  Now,  there 
is  no  fact  more  absolutely  certain  than  that  nations  and 
ages  which  have  differed  most  widely  as  to  the  standard  have 
neen  perfectly  unanimous  as  to  the  excellence  of  humanity. 
Plato,  who  recommended  infanticide;  Cato,  who  sold  his 
aged  slaves ; Pliny,  who  applauded  the  games  of  the  arena ; 
the  old  generals,  who  made  them  prisoners  slaves  or  gladia- 
tors, as  well  as  the  modern  generals,  who  refuse  to  impose 
upon  them  any  degrading  labour ; the  old  legislators,  who 
filled  their  codes  with  sentences  of  torture,  mutilation,  and 
hideous  forms  of  death,  as  well  as  the  modern  legislators, 
who  are  continually  seeking  to  abridge  the  punishment  of 
the  most  guilty;  the  old  "disciplinarian,  who  governed  by 
force,  as  well  as  the  modern  instructor,  who  governs  by  sym- 
pathy ; the  Spanish  girl,  whose  dark  eye  glows  with  rapture 


20 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


as  she  watches  the  frantic  hull,  while  the  fire  streams  from 
the  explosive  dart  that  quivers  in  its  neck  ; as  well  as  tha 
reformers  we  sometimes  meet,  who  are  scandalised  by  all 
field  sports,  or  by  the  sacrifice  of  animal  life  for  food : or 
who  will  eat  only  the  larger  animals,  in  order  to  reduce  the 
sacrifice  of  life  to  a minimum ; or  who  are  continually  invent- 
ing new  methods  of  quickening  animal  death — all  these 
persons,  widely  as  they  differ  in  their  acts  and  in  their  judg- 
ments of  what  things  should  be  called  ‘ brutal,’  and  of  what 
things  should  be  called  * fantastic,’  agree  in  believing  human- 
ity to  be  better  than  cruelty,  and  in  attaching  a definite 
condemnation  to  acts  that  fall  below  the  standard  of  their 
country  and  their  time.  Now,  it  was  one  of  the  most  impor- 
tant services  of  Christianity,  that  besides  quickening  greatly 
our  benevolent  affections  it  definitely  and  dogmatically  as- 
serted the  sinfulness  of  all  destruction  of  human  life  as  a 
matter  of  amusement,  or  of  simple  convenience,  and  thereby 
formed  a new  standard  higher  than  any  which  then  existed 
in  the  world. 

The  influence  of  Christianity  in  this  respect  began  with 
the  very  earliest  stage  of  human  life.  The  practice  of  abor- 
tion was  one  to  which  few  persons  in  antiquity  attached  any 
deep  feeling  of  condemnation.  I have  noticed  in  a former 
chapter  that  the  physiological  theory  that  the  foetus  did  not 
become  a living  creature  till  the  hour  of  birth,  hod  some 
influence  on  the  judgments  passed  upon  this  practice;  and 
even  where  this  theory  was  not  generally  held,  it  is  easy  to 
account  for  the  prevalence  of  the  act.  The  death  of  an 
unborn  child  does  not  appeal  very  powerfully  to  the  feeling 
of  compassion,  and  men  who  had  not  yet  attained  any  strong 
sense  of  the  sanctity  of  human  life,  who  believed  that  they 
might  regulate  their  conduct  on  these  matters  by  utilitarian 
views,  according  to  the  general  interest  of  the  community, 
might  very  readily  conclude  that  the  prevention  of  birth  was 
in  many  cases  an  act  of  mercy.  In  Greece,  Aristotle  net 


FROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE. 


21 


only  countenanced  the  practice,  but  even  desired  that  it 
should  be  enforced  by  law,  when  population  had  exceeded 
certain  assigned  limits.1  No  law  in  Greece,  or  in  the  Roman 
Republic,  or  during  the  greater  part  of  the  Empire,  con- 
demned it ; 2 and  if,  as  has  been  thought,  some  measure  was 
adopted  condemnatory  of  it  before  the  close  of  the  Pagan 
Empire,  that  measure  was  altogether  inoperative.  A long 
chain  of  winters,  both  Pagan  and  Christian,  represent  the 
practice  as  avowed  and  almost  universal.  They  describe  it 
as  resulting,  not  simply  from  licentiousness  or  from  poverty, 
but  even  from  so  slight  a motive  as  vanity,  which  made 
mothers  shrink  from  the  disfigurement  of  childbirth.  They 
speak  of  a mother  who  had  never  destroyed  her  unborn  off- 
spring as  deserving  of  signal  praise,  and  they  assure  us  that 
the  frequency  of  the  crime  was  such  that  it  gave  rise  to  a 
regular  profession.  At  the  same  time,  while  Ovid,  Seneca, 
Eavorinus  the  Stoic  of  Arles,  Plutarch,  and  Juvenal,  all 
speak  of  abortion  as  general  and  notorious,  they  all  speak  of 
it  as  unquestionably  criminal.3  It  was  probably  regarded  by 
the  average  Romans  of  the  later  days  of  Paganism  much  as 


1 See  on  the  views  of  Aristotle, 
Labourt,  Ecckerches  historiqucs  snr 
les  Enfanstrouvis( Paris,  1 848),  p.  9. 

2 See  Gra vina,  Be  Ortu  et  Pro- 
grcssu  Juris  Civilis,  lib.  i.  44. 

8 ‘ IJunc  uterum  vitiat  quse  vnlt 
formosa  video, 

Raraque  in  hoc  sevo  est,  quae 
velit  esse  parens.’ 

Ovid,  Be  Nuce , 22-23. 

The  same  writer  lias  devoted 
one  of  his  elegies  (ii.  14)  to  re- 
proaching hismistressCorinnawith 
having  been  guilty  of  this  act.  It 
was  not  without  danger,  and  Ovid 
eiys, 

‘Saepe  suos  utero  quae  necat 
ipsa  perit.’ 

34 


A niece  of  Domitian  is  said  to 
have  died  in  consequence  of  having, 
at  the  command  of  the  emperor, 
practised  it  (tiueton.  Bomit.  xxii.). 
Plutarch  notices  the  custom  ( I)t 
Sanitate  tuenda),  and  Seneca  eulo- 
gises Helvia  (Ad  Helv.  xvi.)  for 
being  exempt  from  vanity  and  hav- 
ing never  destroyed  her  unborn 
offspring.  Pavorinus,  in  a remark- 
able passage  (Aulus  Gellius,  Noct. 
Att.  xii.  1),  speaks  of  the  act  as 
‘publica  detestatione  communique 
odio  dignum,’  and  proceeds  to  argue 
that  it  is  only  a degree  less  crimi- 
nal for  mothers  to  put  out  their 
children  to  nurse.  Juvenal  hag 
some  well-known  and  emphatic  lines 
on  the  subject : — 


22 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


Englishmen  in  the  last  century  regarded  convivial  excesses,  t-R 
certainly  wrong,  bnt  so  venial  as  scarcely  to  deserve  censure. 

The  language  of  the  Christians  from  the  very  beginning 
was  widely  different.  With  unwavering  consistency  ami 
with  the  strongest  emphasis,  they  denounced  the  practice,  not 
simply  as  inhuman,  but  as  definitely  murder.  In  the  peni- 
tential discipline  of  the  Church,  abortion  was  placed  in  the 
same  category  as  infanticide,  and  the  stern  sentence  to 
winch  the  guilty  person  was  subject  imprinted  on  the  minds 
of  Christians,  more  deeply  than  any  mere  exhortations,  a 
sense  of  the  enormity  of  the  crime.  Ey  the  Council  of 
A ncyra  the  guilty  mother  was  excluded  from  the  Sacrament 
till  the  very  hour  of  death ; and  though  this  penalty  was 
soon  reduced,  first  to  ten  and  afterwards  to  seven  years’ 
penitence,1  the  offence  still  ranked  amongst  the  gravest  in  the 
legislation  of  the  Church.  In  one  very  remarkable  way  the 
reforms  of  Christianity  in  this  sphere  were  powerfully  sus- 
tained by  a doctrine  which  is  perhaps  the  most  revolting  in 
the  whole  theology  of  the  Fathers.  To  the  Pagans,  even 
when  condemning  abortion  and  infanticide,  these  crimes 
appeared  comparatively  trivial,  because  the  victims  seemed 
very  insignificant  and  their  sufferings  very  slight.  The 
death  of  an  adult  man  who  is  struck  down  in  the  midst  of 
his  enterprise  and  his  hopes,  who  is  united  by  ties  of  love  or 
friendship  to  multitudes  around  him,  and  whose  departure 
causes  a perturbation  and  a pang  to  the  society  in  which  he 

‘ Sed  jacet  aurato  vix  ulla  puerpera  Minucius  Felix  ( Octavius , xxx.): 
lecto;  ‘Vos  enim  video  procreatos  filios 

Tantum  artes  hujus,  tantum  medi-  nunc  feris  et  aribus  exponore, 
camina  possunt,  nunc  adstrangulatos  miscro  mortis 

Qumsteriles  faeit,  atquo  homines  in  genere  elidere.  Sunt  quae  in  ip.^is 
ventre  necandos  viseeribus,  medieaminibus  epotis, 

Couducit.  originemfuturihominis  extinguaut, 

Sat.  vi.  592—595.  et  parrieidium  faciant  antequam 
pariant.’ 

There  aro  also  many  allusrons  1 See  Labourt,  Rcchcrclics  sw 
to  it  in  the  Christian  writers.  Thus  les  Enfans  trouves,  p.  25. 


FROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE. 


23 


baa  moved,  excites  feelings  very  different  from  any  produced 
by  tlie  painless  extinction  of  a new-born  infant,  which, 
having  scarcely  touched  the  earth,  has  known  none  of  its 
cares  and  very  little  of  its  love.  But  to  the  theologian  this 
infant  life  possessed  a fearful  significance.  The  moment, 
they  taught,  the  foetus  in  the  womb  acquired  animation,  it 
became  an  immortal  being,  destined,  even  if  it  died  unborn, 
to  be  raised  again  on  the  last  day,  responsible  for  the  sin  of 
Adam,  and  doomed,  if  it  perished  without  baptism,  to  be 
excluded  for  ever  from  heaven  and  to  be  cast,  as  the  Greeks 
taught,  into  a'  painless  and  joyless  limbo,  or,  as  the  Latins 
taught,  into  the  abyss  of  hell.  It  is  probably,  in  a consider- 
able degree,  to  this  doctrine  that  we  owe  in  the  first  instance 
the  healthy  sense  of  the  value  and  sanctity  of  infant  life 
which  so  broadly  distinguishes  Christian  from  Pagan  socie- 
ties, and  which  is  now  so  thoroughly  incorporated  with  our 
moral  feelings  as  to  be  independent  of  all  doctrinal  changes. 
That  which  appealed  so  powerfully  to  the  compassion  of  the 
early  and  mediaeval  Christians,  in  the  fate  of  the  murdered 
infants,  was  not  that  they  died,  but  that  they  commonly 
died  unbaptised;  and  the  criminality  of  abortion  was  im- 
measurably aggravated  when  it  was  believed  to  involve,  not 
only  the  extinction  of  a transient  life,  but  also  the  damnation 
of  an  immortal  soul. 1 In  the  ‘ Lives  of  the  Saints  ’ there  is 
a curious  legend  of  a man  who,  being  desirous  of  ascertaining 


1 Among  the  .barbarian  laws  tatis  lucem  minime  pervenisset, 
there  is  a very  curious  one  about  patitue  pcenam,  quia  sine  sacra- 
a daily  compensation  for  children  mentorogenerationisabortivomodo 
who  had  been  killed  in  the  womb  tradita  est.  ad  inferos.’  —Leges  Ba- 
on  account  of  the  daily  suf-  juvarioritm,  tit.  vii.  cap.  xx.  in 
faring  of  those  children  in  hell.  Canciani,  Leges  Barbar.  vol.  ii.  p. 
TVoptereadiuturnam  judicaverunt  374.  The  first  foundling  hospital 
sntecessores  nostri  eompositionem  of  which  we  ha vo  undoubted  record 
et  judices  postquam  religio  Chris-  is  that  founded  at  Milan,  by  a man 
tianitatis  inolevit  in  mundo.  Quia  named  Datheus,  in  a.d.  789.  Mura- 
diuturiiam  postquam  incamationem  tori  has  preserved  ( Antich . Hal. 
suscepit,  anima,  quamvis  ad  nntivi-  Diss.  xxxvii.)  the  charter  embody- 


24: 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


the  condition  of  a child  before  birth,  s'ew  n pregnant  woman, 
committing  thereby  a double  murder,  that  of  the  mother  and 
of  the  child  in  her  womb.  Stung  by  remorse,  the  murderer 
tied  to  the  desert,  and  passed  the  remainder  of  his  life  in 
constant  penance  and  prayer.  At  last,  after  many  years,  the 
voice  of  God  told  him  that  he  had  been  forgiven  the  murder 
of  the  woman.  But  yet  his  end  was  a clouded  one.  He 
never  could  obtain  an  assurance  that  he  had  been  forgiven 
the  death  of  the  child.1 

If  we  pass  to  the  next  stage  of  human  life,  that  of  the 
new-born  infant,  we  find  ourselves  in  presence  of  that  prac- 
tice of  infanticide  which  was  one  of  the  deepest  stains  of  tha 
ancient  civilisation.  The  natural  history  of  this  crime  is 
somewhat  peculiar.2  Among  savages,  whose  feelings  of 
compassion  are  very  faint,  and  whose  warlike  and  nomadic 


ing  the  motives  of  the  founder,  in 
which  the  following  sentences  oc- 
cur : ‘ Quia  frequenter  per  luxu- 
riant hominum  genus  decipitur,  et 
exinde  malum  homieidii  generatur, 
dum  concipientes  ex  adulterio,  ne 
prodantur  in  publico,  fetos  teneros 
necant.,  et  absque  bapt  smatislavacro 
parmdos  ad  Tartara  mittunt , quia 
nullum  reperhrat  locum,  quo  ser- 
vnre  vivos  valeant,’  &c.  Henry 
II.  of  France,  1556,  made  a long 
law  against  women  who,  ‘ advenant 
c temps  do  leur  part  et  delivrance 
de  leur  enfant,  occultement  s’en 
delivrent,  puis  le  sufFoquout  et  au- 
trement  suppriment  sans  leur  avoir 
fait  empartir  le  Saint  Sacrement 
dw  TSapleme.’ — Labourt,  Rechcrches 
sur  les  Enfans  trouves,  p.  47-  There 
is  a story  told  of  a Queen  of  Portu- 
gal (sister  to  Henry  V.  of  England, 
and  mother  of  St.  Ferdinand)  that, 
being  in  childbirth,  her  life  was 
despaired  of  unless  she  took  a 
medicine  which  would  accelerate 
the  birth  but  probably  sacrifice  the 


life  of  the  child.  She  answered 
that  ‘she  would  not  purchase  her 
temporal  life  by  sacrificing  the 
eternal  salvation  of  her  son.’  — 
Bollandists,  Act.  Sanctnr.,  June  5th. 

1 Tillemont,  Me  moires  pour  sir- 
vir  d IHistoire  ecclesiastiquc  (Paris, 
1701),  tome  x.  p.  41.  St.  Clem. 
Alexand.  says  that  infants  in  tho 
womb  and  exposed  infants  have 
guardian  angels  to  watch  over  them. 
{Strom,  v.) 

- There  is  an  extremely  large 
literature  devoted  to  the  subject 
of  infanticide,  exposition,  found- 
lings, &c.  The  books  I have  chiefly 
followed  are  Terme  et  Monfalcon, 
Histoirc  dcs  Enfans  trouves  I Paris, 
1 840) ; Ilemacle,  Des  Hospiecs 
(V Enfans  trouves  (1838) ; Labourt, 
Rccherehes  historiques  sur  les  Em  fans 
trouves  (Paris,  1848) ; Kosnigswar- 
tor,  Essai  sur  la  Legislation  des 
Peuples  anciensct  mod/rnes  relative 
erax Enfans  nes  l/ors  Mariage  (Paris 
18421.  There  are  also  many  de- 
tails on  the  subject  in  Godeffoy’a 


FROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE. 


25 


habits  are  eminently  unfavourable  to  infant  life,  it  is,  as 
might  be  expected,  the  usxial  custom  for  the  parent  to  decide 
whether  he  desires  to  preserve  the  child  he  has  called  into 
existence,  and  if  he  does  not,  to  expose  or  slay  it.  In  nations 
that  have  passed  out  of  the  stage  of  barbarism,  but  are  still 
rude  and  simple  in  their  habits,  the  practice  of  infanticide  is 
usually  rare ; but,  unlike  other  crimes  of  violence,  it  is  not 
naturally  diminished  by  the  progress  of  civilisation,  for,  after 
the  period  of  savage  life  is  passed,  its  prevalence  is  influenced 
much  more  by  the  sensuality  than  by  the  barbarity  of  a 
people.1  We  may  trace  too,  in  many  countries  and  ages,  the 
notion  that  children,  as  the  fruit,  representatives,  and  dearest 
possessions  of  their  parents,  are  acceptable  sacrifices  to  the 
gods.2  Infanticide,  as  is  well  known,  was  almost  universally 


Commentary  to  tho  laws  abont 
children  in  the  Theodosian  Code, 
in  Malthas, " On  Population,  in 
Edward’s  tract  On  the  State  of 
Slaver}/  in  the  Early  and  Middle 
Ages  of  Christianity,  and  in  most 
ecclesiastical  histories. 

1 It  must  not,  however,  be  in- 
ferred from  this  that  infanticide 
increases  in  direct  proportion  to 
".he  unchastity  of  a nation.  Prob- 
ably the  condition  of  civilised 
society  in  which  it  is  most  com- 
mon, is  where  a large  amount  of 
actual  uncliastity  coexists  with 
very  strong  social  condemnation  of 
the  sinner,  and  where,  in  conse- 
quence, there  is  an  intense  anxiety 
to  conceal  the  fall.  A recent  writer 
on  Spain  has  noticed  the  almost 
complete  absence  of  infanticide  in 
that  country,  and  has  ascribed  it 
to  the  great  leniency  of  public 
opinion  towards  female  frailty. 
Foundling  hospitals,  also,  greatly 
influence  the  history  of  infanticide; 
but  the  mortality  in  them  was  long 
so  great  that  it  may  be  questioned 


whether  they  have  diminished  the 
number  of  the  deaths,  though  they 
have,  as  I believe,  greatly  dimi- 
nished the  number  of  the  murders 
of  children.  Lord  Karnes,  writing 
in  the  last  half  of  the  eighteenth 
century,  says  : ‘ In  Wales,  even  at 
present,  and  in  the  Highlands  of 
Scotland,  it  is  scarce  a disgrace 
for  a young  woman  to  have  a bas- 
tard. In  the  country  last  men- 
tioned, the  first  instance  known  of 
a bastard  child  being  destroyed  by 
its  mother  through  shame  is  a lato 
one.  The  virtue  of  chastity  ap- 
pears to  be  thus  gaining  ground,  as 
the  only  temptation  a woman  can 
have  to  destroy  her  child  is  to  con- 
ceal her  frailty.’ — Sketches  of  the 
History  of  Man— On  the  Progrest 
of  the  Female  Sex.  The  last  clause 
is  clearly  inaccurate,  but  thero 
seems  reason  for  believing  that 
maternal  affection  is  generally 
stronger  than  want,  but  weaker 
than  shame. 

2 See  Warburton’s  Divine  Legs 
tion,  vii.  2 


26 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


admitted  among  the  Greeks,  being  sanctioned,  and  in  some 
cases  enjoined,  upon  what  we  should  now  call  ‘ the  greatest 
happiness  principle,’  by  the  ideal  legislations  of  Plato  and 
Aristotle,  and  by  the  actual  legislations  of  Lycurgus  and 
Solon.  Regarding  the  community  as  a whole,  they  clearly 
saw  that  it  is  in  the  highest  degree  for  the  interest  of  society 
that  the  increase  of  population  should  be  very  jealously  re 
stricted,  and  that  the  State  should  be  as  far  as  possible  free 
from  helpless  and  unproductive  members ; and  they  therefore 
concluded  that  the  painless  destruction  of  infant  life,  and 
especially  of  those  infants  who  were  so  deformed  or  diseased 
that  their  lives,  if  prolonged,  would  probably  have  been  a 
burden  to  themselves,  was  on  the  whole  a benefit.  The  very 
sensual  tone  of  Greek  life  rendered  the  modern  notion  of 
prolonged  continence  wholly  alien  to  their  thoughts ; and  the 
extremely  low  social  and  intellectual  condition  of  Greek 
mothers,  who  exercised  no  appreciable  influence  over  the 
habits  of  thought  of  the  nation  should  also,  I think,  be  taken 
into  account,  for  it  has  always  been  observed  that  mothers 
are  much  more  distinguished  than  fathers  for  their  affection 
for  infants  that  have  not  yet  manifested  the  first  dawning  of 
reason.  Even  in  Greece,  however,  infanticide  and  exposition 
were  not  universally  permitted.  In  Thebes  these  offences 
are  said  to  have  been  punished  by  death.1 

The  power  of  life  and  death,  which  in  Rome  was  origi- 
nally conceded  to  the  father  over  his  children,  would  appear 
to  involve  an  unlimited  permission  of  infanticide ; but  a very 
old  law,  popularly  ascribed  to  Romulus,  in  this  respect  re- 
stricted  the  parental  rights,  enjoining  the  father  to  bring  up 


1 JElian,  Varia  Hist.  ii.  7.  Pas- 
sages from  the  Greek  imaginative 
writers,  representing  exposition  as 
the  avowed  and  habitual  practice 
of  poor  parents,  are  collected  by 
Terme  el  Moufalcon,  Hist,  dcs  En- 
fans  trouves , pp.  39-45.  Tacitus 


notices  with  praise  ( Germania,  six.) 
that  the  Germans  did  not  allow  in- 
fanticide. He  also  notices  (Hist. 
v.  5)  the  prohibition  of  infanticide 
among  the  Jews,  and  ascribes  it  to 
their  desire  to  increase  the  popula- 
tion. 


FROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE. 


27 


fill  his  male  children,  and  at  least  his  eldest  female  child, 
forbidding  him  to  destroy  any  well-formed  child  till  it  had 
completed  its  third  year,  when  the  affections  of  the  parent 
might  be  supposed  to  be  developed,  but  permitting  the  expo- 
sition of  deformed  or  maimed  children  with  the  consent  of 
their  five  nearest  relations.1  The  Roman  policy  was  always 
to  encourage,  while  the  Greek  policy  was  rather  to  restrain, 
population,  and  infanticide  never  appears  to  have  been  com- 
mon in  Rome  till  the  corrupt  and  sensual  days  of  the  Empire. 
The  legislators  then  absolutely  condemned  it,  and  it  was 
indirectly  discouraged  by  laws  which  accorded  special  privi- 
leges to  the  fathers  of  many  children,  exempted  poor  parents 
from  most  of  the  burden  of  taxation,  and  in  some  degree 
provided  for  the  security  of  exposed  infants.  Public  opinion 
probably  differed  little  from  that  of  our  own  day  as  to  the 
fact,  though  it  differed  from  it  much  as  to  the  degree,  of  its 
criminality.  It  was,  as  will  be  remembered,  one  of  the 
charges  most  frequently  brought  against  the  Christians,  and 
it  was  one  that  never  failed  to  arouse  popular  indignation. 
Pagan  and  Christian  authorities  are,  however,  united  in 
speaking  of  infanticide  as  a crying  vice  of  the  Empire,  and 
Tertullian  observed  that  no  laws  were  more  easily  or  more 
constantly  evaded  than  those  which  condemned  it.2  A broad 
distinction  was  popularly  drawn  between  infanticide  and 
exposition.  The  latter,  though  probably  condemned,  was 
certainly  not  punished  by  law;3  it  was  practised  on  a 

1 Dion.  Halic.  ii.  controversy  between  two  Dutch 

2 Ad  Nat.  i.  15.  professors,  named  Noodt  and  Byn- 

3 The  well-known  jurisconsult  kershoek,  conducted  on  both  sides 
Paulus  had  laid  down  the  proposi-  with  great  learning,  and  on  the 
tion,  ‘Necare  videtur  non  tantum  side  of  Noodt  with  great  passion, 
is  qui  partuin  perfocat  sed  et  is  qui  Noodt  maintained  that  these  words 
abjicir  et  qui  alimonia  denegat  et  are  simply  the  expression  of  a 
qui  publicis  locis  misericordise  moral  truth,  not  a judicial  decision, 
causa  exponit  quam  ipso  non  habet.’  and  that  exposition  was  never 
(Big.  lib.  xxv.  tit.  iii.  1.  4.)  These  illegal  in  Home  till  some  time  after 
words  have  given  rise  to  a famous  the  establishment  of  Christianity, 


28 


HISTORY  OP  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


gigantic  scale  and  with  absolute  impunity,  noticed  by  writers 
with  the  most  frigid  indifference,  and,  at  least  in  the  case  of 
destitute  parents,  considered  a very  venial  offence.1  Often, 
no  doubt,  the  exposed  children  perished,  but  more  frequently 
the  very  extent  of  the  practice  saved  the  lives  of  the  victims. 
They  were  brought  systematically  to  a column  near  the  Vela- 
brum,  and  there  taken  by  speculators,  who  educated  them  aa 
slaves,  or  very  frequently  as  prostitutes.2 


His  opponent  argued  that  exposi- 
tion was  legally  identical  with  in- 
fanticide, and  became,  therefore, 
illegal  when  the  power  of  life  and 
death  was  withdrawn  from  the 
father.  (See  tho  works  of  Noodt 
(Cologne,  1763)  and  of  Bynkers- 
hoek  (Cologne,  1761).  It  was  at 
least  certain  that  exposition  was 
notorious  and  avowed,  and  the  law 
against  it,  if  it  existed,  inopera- 
tive. Gibbon  ( Beeline  and  Fall, 
eli.  xliv.)  thinks  the  law  censured 
but  did  not  punish  exposition. 
See,  too,  Troplong,  Influence  du 
Chrisiianisme  surle  Broil,  p.  271. 

1 Quintilian  speaks  in  a tone  of 
apology,  if  not  justification,  of  the 
exposition  of  the  children  of  desti- 
tute parents  (Decl.  cccvi.),  and  even 
Plutarch  speaks  of  it  without  cen- 
sure. (Be  Amor.  Prolis.)  There 
are  several  curious  illustrations  in 
Latin  literature  of  the  different 
feelings  of  fathers  and  mothers  on 
this  matter.  Terence  ( Heauton . 
Act.  iii.  Scene  5) represents Chremes 
as  having,  as  a matter  of  course, 
charged  his  pregnant  wife  to  have 
her  child  killed  provided  it  was  a 
girl.  The  mother,  overcome  by 
pity  shrank  from  doing  so,  and 
secretly  gave  it  to  an  old  woman 
to  expose  it,  in  hopes  that  it  might 
lie  preserved.  Chremes,  on  hear- 
ing what  had  been  done,  reproached 
Li.'*  wife  for  her  womanly  pity,  and 


told  her  she  had  been  not  only 
disobedient  but  irrational,  for  she 
was  only  consigning  her  daughter 
to  the  life  of  a prostitute.  In 
Apuleius  (Mctam.  lib.  x.)  we  have  a 
similar  picture  of  a father  starting 
for  a journey,  leaving  his  wife  in 
childbirth,  and  giving  her  his  part- 
ing command  to  kill  her  child  if  it 
should  be  a girl,  which  she  could 
not  bring  herself  to  do.  The  girl 
was  brought  up  secretly.  In  the 
case  of  weak  or  deformed  infants 
infanticide  seems  to  have  been 
habitual.  ‘ Portentosos  fetus  ex- 
tinguimus,  1 i beros  quoque,  si  debil  es 
monstrosique  editi  sunt,  mergimus. 
Non  ira,  sed  ratio  est,  a sanis  inu- 
tilia  secernere.’ — Seneca,  Be  Ira,  i. 
15.  Terence  has  introduced  a 
picture  of  the  exposition  of  an  in- 
fant, into  his  Andria,  Act.  iv.  Scene 
5.  See,  too,  Suet.  August,  lxv. 
According  to  Suetonius  (Calig.  v.), 
on  the  death  of  Germanieus,  women 
exposed  their  new-born  children  in 
sign  of  grief.  Ovid  had  dwelt  with 
much  feeling  on  the  barbarity  of 
these  practices.  It  is  a very 
curious  fact,  which  has  been  no- 
ticed by  Warburton,  that  Chremes, 
whose  sentiments  about  infants  we 
have  just  seen,  is  the  very  personage 
into  whose  mouth  Terence  has  put 
the  famous  sentiment,  ‘Homo  sum, 
humani  nihil  a me  alieimm  puto.’ 

- That  thuso  were  tho  usual 


FROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE. 


29 


On  the  whole,  what  was  demanded  on  this  subject  was 
act  any  clearer  moral  teaching,  but  rather  a stronger  enforce- 
ment of  the  condemnation  long  since  passed  upon  infanticide, 
and  an  increased  protection  for  exposed  infants.  By  the 
penitential  sentences,  by  the  dogmatic  considerations  I have 
enumerated,  and  by  the  earnest  exhortations  both  of  her 
preachers  and  writer's,  the  Church  laboured  to  deepen  the 
sense  of  the  enormity  of  the  act,  and  especially  to  convince 
men  that  the  guilt  of  abandoning  their  children  to  the  pre- 
carious and  doubtful  mercy  of  the  stranger  was  scarcely 
less  than  that  of  simple  infanticide. 1 In  the  civil  law  her 
influence  was  also  displayed,  though  not,  I think,  very 
advantageously.  By  the  counsel,  it  is  said,  of  Lactantius, 
Constantine,  in  the  very  year  of  his  conversion,  in  order  to 
diminish  infanticide  by  destitute  parents,  issued  a decree, 
applicable  in  the  first  instance  to  Italy,  but  extended  in  a.d. 
322  to  Africa,  in  which  he  commanded  that  those  children 
whom  then  parents  were  unable  to  support  should  be  clothed 
and  fed  at  the  expense  of  the  State,2  a policy  which  had  already 
been  pursued  on  a large  scale  under  the  Antonines.  In  a.d. 
331,  a law  intended  to  multiply  the  chances  of  the  exposed 
child  being  taken  charge  of  by  some  charitable  or  interested 
person,  provided  that  the  foundling  should  remain  the  abso- 
lute property  of  its  saviour’,  whether  he  adopted  it  as  a son 


fates  of  exposed  infants  is  noticed 
by  several  writers.  Some,  too, 
both  Pagan  and  Christian  (Quin- 
tilian, Dcd.  cccvi. ; Lactantius,  Div. 
Inst.  vi.  20,  &c.),  speak  of  the  lia- 
bility to  incestuous  marriages  re- 
sulting from  frequent  exposition. 
In  the  Greek  poets  there  are 
several  allusions  to  rich  childless 
men  adopting  foundlings,  and  Ju- 
venal says  it  was  common  for 
Roman  wives  to  palm  off  found- 
lings on  their  husbands  for  their 
hons.  [Sat.  vi.  003.)  There  is  an 


extremely  horrible  declamation  in 
Seneca  the  Rhetorician  [Controvers. 
lib.  v.  33;  about  exposed  children 
who  were  said  to  have  been  maimed 
and  mutilated,  either  to  prevent 
their  recognition  by  their  parents, 
or  that  they  might  gain  money  as 
beggars  for  their  masters. 

1 See  passages  on  this  pcint 
cited  by  Godefroy  in  his  Commen- 
tary to  theLaw  ‘DaExpositis,’  Codex 
Theod.  lib.  v.  tit.  7. 

2 Codex  Theod.  lib.  xi.  tit, 
27. 


30 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


or  employed  it  as  a slave,  and  that  the  parent  should  not 
have  power  at  any  future  time  to  reclaim  it.1  By  another 
law,  which  had  been  issued  in  a.d.  329,  it  had  been  pro- 
vided  that  children  who  had  been,  not  exposed,  but  sold, 
might  be  reclaimed  upon  payment  by  the  father.2 

The  last  two  laws  cannot  be  regarded  with  unmingled 
satisfaction.  The  law  regulating  the  condition  of  exposed  cliil- 
dren,  though  undoubtedly  enacted  with  the  most  benevolent 
intentions,  was  in  some  degree  a retrograde  step,  the  Pagan 
laws  having  provided  that  the  father  might  always  withdraw 
the  child  he  had  exposed,  from  servitude,  by  payment  of  the 
expenses  incurred  in  supporting  it,3  while  Trajan  had  even 
decided  that  the  exposed  child  could  not  become  under  any 
circumstance  a slave.4  The  law  of  Constantine,  on  the  other 
hand,  doomed  it  to  an  irrevocable  servitude ; and  this  law 
continued  in  force  till  a.d.  529,  when  Justinian,  reverting  to 
the  principle  of  Trajan,  decreed  that  not  only  the  father  lost 
all  legitimate  authority  over  his  child  by  exposing  it,  but 
also  that  the  person  who  had  saved  it  could  not  by  that  act 
deprive  it  of  its  natural  liberty.  But  this  law  applied  only 
to  the  Eastern  Empire ; and  in  part  at  least  of  the  West  5 
the  servitude  of  exposed  infants  continued  for  centuries,  and 
appears  only  to  have  terminated  with  the  general  extinction 
of  slavery  in  Europe.  The  law  of  Constantine  concerning 
the  sale  of  children  was  also  a step,  though  perhaps  a neces- 
sary step,  of  retrogression.  A series  of  emperors,  among 
whom  Caracalla  was  conspicuous,  had  denounced  and  en- 
deavoured to  abolish,  as  ‘ shameful,’  the  traffic  in  free  children, 
and  Diocletian  had  expressly  and  absolutely  condemned  it.6 


1 Codex  Theod.  lib.  v.  tit.  7,  ( Ep . x.  72.) 

[os.  1.  5 See  on  this  point  Murat ori, 

2 Ibid.  lib.  v.  tit.  8,  lex  1.  Antich.  Ital.  Diss.  xxxvffi 

* See  Godefroy’s  Commentary  6 See  on  these  laws,  Wallon, 
to  the  Law.  Hist,  de  VEsdavagc,  tome  iii.  pp 

4 In  a letter  to  the  younger  Pliny.  52,  53. 


FROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE. 


31 


The  extreme  misery,  however,  resulting  from  the  civil  waits 
under  Constantine,  had  rendered  it  necessary  to  authorise 
the  old  practice  of  selling  children  in  the  case  of  absolute 
destitution,  which,  though  it  had  been  condemned,  had  prob- 
ably never  altogether  ceased.  Theodosius  the  Great  at- 
tempted to  take  a step  in  advance,  by  decreeing  that  the 
children  thus  sold  might  regain  their  freedom  without  the 
repayment  of  the  purchase-money,  a temporary  service  being 
a sufficient  compensation  for  the  purchase;  1 but  this  measure 
was  repealed  by  Valentinian  III.  The  sale  of  children  in 
case  of  great  necessity,  though  denoimced  by  the  Fathers,2 
continued  long  after  the  time  of  Theodosius,  nor  does  any 
Christian  emperor  appear  to  have  enforced  the  humane 
enactment  of  Diocletian. 

Together  with  these  measures  for  the  protection  of  ex- 
posed children,  there  were  laws  directly  condemnatory  of 
infanticide.  This  branch  of  the  subject  is  obscured  by  much 
ambiguity  and  controversy ; but  it  appears  most  probable 
that  the  Pagan  legislation  reckoned  infanticide  as  a form  of 
homicide,  though,  being  deemed  less  atrocious  than  other 
forms  of  homicide,  it  was  punished,  not  by  death,  but  by 
banishment.3  A law  of  Constantine,  intended  principally, 
and  perhaps  exclusively,  for  Africa,  where  the  sacrifices  of 
children  to  Saturn  were  very  common,  assimilated  to  parricide 
the  murder  of  a child  by  its  father ; 4 and  finally,  Valentinian, 
in  a.d.  374,  made  all  infanticide  a capital  offence,5  and 


1 See  Cod.  Tluod.  lib.  iii.  tit.  3, 
lex  1 , and  the  Commentary. 

s On  the  very  persistent  denun- 
ciation of  this  practice  by  the 
Fathers,  see  many  examples  in 

Terme  et  Monfalcon. 

' This  is  a mere  question  of 
definition,  upon  which  lawyers  have 
expended  much  learning  and  dis- 
cussion. Cujas  thought  the  Ro- 

mans considered  infanticide  a 


crime,  but  a crime  generieally  dif- 
ferent from  homicide.  Godefroy 
maintains  that  it  was  classified  as 
homicide,  but  that,  being  esteemed 
less  heinous  than  the  other  forms 
of  homicide,  it  was  only  punished 
by  exile.  See  the  Oommentarj  to 
Cod  Thcod.  lib.  ix.  tit.  14,  1.  1. 

4 Cod.  Thcod.  lib.  ix.  tit.  15. 

5 Ibid.  lib.  ix.  tit.  14,  lex  1. 


32 


HISTORY  or  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


especially  enjoined  the  punishment  of  exposition.1  A law  of 
the  Spanish  Visigoths,  in  the  seventh  century,  punished  in- 
i’anticide  and  abortion  with  death  or  blindness.2  In  the 
Capitularies  of  Charlemagne  the  former  crime  was  punished 
as  homicide.3 

It  is  not  possible  to  ascertain,  with  any  degree  of  accuracy, 
what  diminution  of  infanticide  resulted  from  these  measures. 
It  may,  however,  be  safely  asserted  that  the  publicity  of  tlio 
trade  in  exposed  children  became  impossible  under  the  influ- 
ence of  Christianity,  and  that  the  sense  of  the  serious  nature 
of  the  crime  was  very  considerably  increased.  The  extreme 
destitution,  which  was  one  of  its  most  fertile  causes,  was  met 
by  Christian  charity.  Many  exposed  children  appear  to 
have  been  educated  by  individual  Christians.4  Brephotrophia 
and  Orphanotrophia  are  among  the  earliest  recorded  charita- 
ble institutions  of  the  Church  ; but  it  is  not  certain  that 
exposed  children  were  admitted  into  them,  and  we  find  no 
trace  for  several  centuries  of  Christian  foundling  hospitals. 
This  form  of  charity  grew  up  gradually  in  the  early  part  of 
the  middle  ages.  It  is  said  that  one  existed  at  Treves  in  the 
sixth,  and  at  Angers  in  the  seventh  century,  and  it  is  certain 
that  one  existed  at  Milan  in  the  eighth  century.5  The 
Council  of  Ilouen,  in  the  ninth  century,  invited  women  who 
had  secretly  borne  children  to  place  them  at  the  door  of  the 
church,  and  undertook  to  provide  for  them  if  they  were  not 
reclaimed.  It  is  probable  that  they  were  brought  up  among 

1 Corp.  Juris,  lib.  viii.  tit.  52,  exposed  children  and  to  have  them 

lex  2.  brought  into  the  church.  See 

2 Leges  Wisignthorum  (lib.  vi.  Terme  et  Monfalcon,  Hist,  dcs 
tit.  3,  lex  7)  anil  othor  laws  (lib.  Enfans  trouves,  p.  74. 

iv.  tit.  4)  condemned  exposition.  5 Compare  Labourt,  Ecch.  swi 

‘ ‘ Si  quis  infantem  necaverit  les  Enfans  trouves,  pp.  32,  33 ; 
ut  homicida  teneutur.’—  Capit.  vii.  Muratori,  Antichita  Italiane,  Dis- 
168.  sert.  xxxvii.  Muratori  has  also 

4 It  appears,  from  a passage  of  briefly  noticed  the  history  of  those 

St.  Augustine,  that  Christian  vir-  charities  in  his  Carila  Christiana. 
gins  were  accustomed  to  collect  cap.  xxvii. 


FROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE. 


33 


the  numerous  slaves  or  serfs  attached  to  the  ecclesiastical 
properties ; for  a decree  of  the  Council  of  Arles,  in  the  fifth 
century,  and  afterwards  a law  of  Charlemagne,  had  echoed 
the  enactment  of  Constantine,  declaring  that  exposed  children 
should  be  the  slaves  of  then-  protectors.  As  slavery  declined, 
the  memorials  of  many  sins,  like  many  other  of  the  discordant 
elements  of  medkeval  society,  were  doubtless  absorbed  and 
consecrated  in  the  monastic  societies.  The  strong  sense 
always  evinced  in  the  Church  of  the  enormity  of  unchastity 
probably  rendered  the  ecclesiastics  more  cautious  in  this  than 
in  other  forms  of  charity,  for  institutions  especially  intended 
for  deserted  children  advanced  but  slowly.  Even  Rome,  the 
mother  of  many  charities,  could  boast  of  none  till  the  begin- 
ning of  the  thirteenth  century.1  About  the  middle  of  the 
twelfth  century  we  find  societies  at  Milan  charged,  among 
other  functions,  with  seeking  for  exposed  children.  Towards 
the  close  of  the  same  century,  a monk  of  Montpellier,  whose 
very  name  is  doubtful,  but  who  is  commonly  spoken  of  as 
Brother  Guy,  founded  a confraternity  called  by  the  name  of 
the  Holy  Ghost,  and  devoted  to  the  protection  and  education 
of  children;  and  this  society  in  the  two  following  centmies 
ramified  over  a great  part  of  Europe.2  Though  principally 
and  at  first,  perhaps,  exclusively  intended  for  the  care  of  the 
orphans  of  legitimate  marriages,  though  in  the  fifteenth 


1 The  first  seems  to  have  been 
the  hospital  of  Sta.  Maria  in 
Sassia,  which  had  existed  with 
various  changes  from  the  eighth 
century,  but  was  made  a found- 
ling hospital  and  confided  to  the 
care  of  Guy  of  Montpellier  in 
A.n.  1204.  According  to  one  tra- 

dition, Pope  Innocent  III.  had 
boen  shocked  at  hearing  of  infants 
diawn  in  the  nets  of  fishermen 
fr  >m  the  Tiber.  According  to 
another,  he  was  inspired  by  an 


angel.  Compare  Rcmaelo,  Hospices 
d'Enfans  trouves,  pp.  36-37,  and 
Amydernus,  Pietas  Rom  ana  (a  book 
written  a.d.  1624,  and  translated 
in  part  into  English  in  u.  1687), 
Eng.  trans.  pp.  2,  3. 

2 For  the  little  that  is  known 
about  this  missionary  of  charity, 
eomparo  Remade,  Hospices  d'En- 
fans  trouves,  pp.  34-44  ; and  L*- 
bourt,  Rcchcrch.cs  hisforiques  sur  let 
Emails  trouves,  pp.  38-41. 


34 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN"  MORALS. 


century  the  Hospital  of  the  Holy  Ghost  at  Paris  even  re- 
fused  to  admit  deserted  children,  yet  the  care  of  foundlings 
soon  passed  in  a great  measure  into  its  hands.  At  last,  after 
many  complaints  of  the  frequency  of  infanticide,  St.  Vincent 
de  Paul  arose,  and  gave  so  great  an  impulse  to  that  branch 
of  charity  that  he  may  be  regarded  as  its  second  author,  and 
his  influence  was  felt  not  only  in  private  charities,  but  in 
legislative  enactments.  Into  the  effects  of  these  measures — 
the  encouragement  of  the  vice  of  incontinence  by  institutions 
that  were  designed  to  suppress  the  crime  of  infanticide,  and 
the  serious  moral  controversies  suggested  by  this  apparent 
conflict  between  the  interests  of  humanity  and  of  chastity — 
it  is  not  necessary  for  me  to  enter.  We  are  at  present  con- 
cerned with  the  principles  that  actuated  Christian  charity, 
not  with  the  wisdom  of  its  organisations.  Whatever  mis- 
takes may  have  been  made,  the  entire  movement  I have 
traced  displays  an  anxiety  not  only  for  the  life,  but  also  for 
the  moral  well-being,  of  the  castaways  of  society,  such  as  the 
most  humane  nations  of  antiquity  had  never  reached.  This 
minute  and  scrupulous  care  for  human  life  and  human  virtue 
in  the  humblest  forms,  in  the  slave,  the  gladiator,  the  savage, 
or  the  infant,  was  indeed  wholly  foreign  to  the  genius  of 
Paganism.  It  was  produced  by  the  Christian  doctrine  of 
the  inestimable  value  of  each  immortal  soul.  It  is  the  dis- 
tinguishing and  transcendent  characteristic  of  every  society 
into  which  the  spirit  of  Christianity  has  passed. 

The  influence  of  Christianity  in  the  protection  of  infant 
life,  though  very  real,  may  be,  and  I think  often  has  been, 
exaggerated.  It  would  be  difficult  to  overrate  its  influence 
in  the  sphere  wo  have  next  to  examine.  There  is  scarcely 
any  other  single  reform  so  important  in  the  moral  history  of 
mankind  as  the  suppression  of  the  gladiatorial  shows,  and 
this  feat  must  be  almost  exclusively  ascribed  to  the  Christian 
Church.  When  we  remember  how  extremely  few  of  the 
l>est  and  greatest  men  of  the  Roman  world  had  absolutely 


FROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE. 


35 


condemned  the  games  of  the  amphitheatre,  it  is  impossible  to 
regard,  without  the  deepest  admiration,  the  unwavering  and 
uncompromising  consistency  of  the  patristic  denunciations. 
And  even  comparing  the  Fathers  with  the  most  enlightened 
Fagan  moralists  in  their  treatment  of  this  matter,  we  shall 
usually  find  one  most  significant  difference.  The  Pagan,  in 
(he  spirit  of  philosophy,  denounced  these  games  as  inhuman,' 
or  demoralising,  or  degrading,  or  brutal.  The  Christian,  in 
the  spirit  of  the  Church,  represented  them  as  a definite  sin, 
the  sin  of  murder,  for  which  the  spectators  as  well  as  the 
actors  were  directly  responsible  before  Heaven.  In  the  very 
- latest  days  of  the  Fagan  Empire,  magnificent  amphitheatres 
were  still  arising,1  and  Constantine  himself  had  condemned 
numerous  barbarian  captives  to  combat  with  wild  beasts.2 
It  was  in  a.d.  325,  immediately  after  the  convocation  of  the 
Council  of  Nice,  that  the  first  Christian  emperor  issued  the 
first  edict  in  the  Homan  Empire  condemnatory  of  the  gladia- 
torial games.3  It  was  issued  in  Berytus  in  Syria,  and  is 
believed  by  some  to  have  been  only  applicable  to  the  province 
of  Phoenicia ; 4 but  even  in  this  province  it  was  suffered  to 
be  inoperative,  for,  only  four  years  later,  Libanius  speaks  of 
the  shows  as  habitually  celebrated  at  Antioch.5  In  the 
Western  Empire  their  continuance  was  fully  recognised, 
though  a few  infinitesimal  restrictions  were  imposed  upon 
them.  Constantine,  in  a.d.  357,  prohibited  the  lanistse,  or 


1 E.g.  the  amphitheatre  of  ad  poenas  spectaculo  dati  ssevientes 

Verona  was  only  built  under  Dio-  bestias  multitudiue  sua  fatiga- 
cletian.  runt.’ — Eumenius,  Pancg.  Constant, 

2 ‘ Quid  hoc  triumpho  pul-  si. 

chrius  ? . . . Tantam  captivorum  3 Cod.  Thcod.  lib.  xv.  tit.  12 
m iltitudinem  bestiis  objicit  ut.  in-  lex  1.  Sozomen,  i.  8. 
crati  et  perfidi  non  minus  doloris  1 This,  at  least,  is  the  opinion 
ex  ludibrio  sui  quam  ex  ipsa  morte  of  Godefroy,  who  has  discussed  the 
patiantur.’ — Incerti  Pavcgyrievs  subject  very  fully.  (Cod.  Thcod, 

Constant.  ‘ Puberes  qui  in  manus  lib.  xv.  tit..  12.) 

vcnerunt,  quorum  nec  perildia  erat  6 Libanius,  Be  Vita  Sua,  3. 

apta  militia-,  nec  ferocia  servituti 


36 


HISTORY  OP  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


purveyors  of  gladiators,  from  bribing  servants  of  the  palace  fa 
enrol  themselves  as  combatants. 1 Valentinian,  in  a.d.  365,  for- 
bade any  Christian  criminal,2  and  in  a.d.  367,  any  one  connected 
with  the  Palatine,3  being  condemned  to  fight.  Honoring 
prohibited  any  slave  who  had  been  a gladiator  passing  into 
the  service  of  a senator ; but  the  real  object  of  this  last 
measure  was,  I imagine,  not  so  much  to  stigmatise  the 
gladiator,  as  to  guard  against  the  danger  of  an  armed  nobility.4 
A much  more  important  fact  is  that  the  spectacles  were 
never  introduced  into  the  new  capital  of  Constantine.  At 
Pome,  though  they  became  less  numerous,  they  do  not  appear 
to  have  been  suspended  until  their  final  suppression.  The 
passion  for  gladiators  was  the  worst,  while  religious  liberty 
was  probably  the  best,  feature  of  the  old  Pagan  society ; and 
it  is  a melancholy  fact  that  of  these  two  it  was  the  nobler 
paid  that  in  the  Christian  Empire  was  first  destroyed.  Theo- 
dosius the  Great,  who  suppressed  all  diversity  of  worship 
throughout  the  Empire,  and  who  showed  himself  on  many 
occasions  the  docile  slave  of  the  clergy,  won  the  applause  of 
the  Pagan  Symmachus  by  compelling  his  barbarian  prisoners 
torfight  as  gladiators.5  Besides  this  occasion,  we  have  special 
knowledge  of  gladiatorial  games  that  were  celebrated  in  a.b. 
385.  in  a.d.  391,  and  afterwards  in  the  reign  of  Honoring, 
and  the  practice  of  condemning  criminals  to  the  arena  still 
continued.6 

But  although  the  suppression  of  the  gladiatorial  shows 
was  not  effected  in  the  metropolis  of  the  Empire  till  nearly 
ninety  years  after  Christianity  had  been  the  State  religion, 
the  distinction  between  the  teaching  of  the  Christians  and 
Pagans  on  the  subject  remained  unimpaired.  To  the  last, 


1 Cod.  Tkcod.  lib.  xv.  tit.  12,1.2.  6 M.  Wallon  has  traced  these 

2 Ibid.  lib.  ix.  tit. 40,  1.  8.  last  shows  with  much  learning, 

3 Ibid.  lib.  ix.  tit.  40.  1.  11.  (Hist,  de  VEsclavarjc,  tome  iii.  pp, 

4 Ibid.  lib.  xv.  tit.  12,  1.  3.  421-420.) 

4 Symmnch.  Ex.  x.  61. 


FROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE. 


37 


the  most  estimable  of  the  Pagans  appear  to  have  regarded 
them  with  favour  or  indifference.  Julian,  it  is  true,  with  a 
rare  magnanimity,  refused  persistently,  in  his  conflict  with 
Christianity,  to  avail  himself,  as  he  might  most  easily  have 
done,  of  the  popular  passion  for  games  which  the  Church 
d 'nderuned ; but  Libanius  has  noticed  them  with  some  appro- 
lution,1  and  Symmachus,  as  we  have  already  seen,  both  in- 
stituted and  applauded  them.  But  the  Christians  steadily 
refused  to  admit  any  professional  gladiator  to  baptism  till  he 
had  pledged  himself  to  abandon  his  calling,  and  every  Chris- 
tian who  attended  the  games  was  excluded  from  communion. 
The  preachers  and  writers  of  the  Church  denounced  them 
with  the  most  unqualified  vehemence,  and  the  poet  Prudentius 
made  a direct  and  earnest  appeal  to  the  emperor  to  suppress 
them.  In  the  East,  where  they  had  never  taken  very  firm 
root,  they  appear  to  have  ceased  about  the  time  of  Theodosius, 
and  a passion  for  chariot  races,  which  rose  to  the  most  extra- 
vagant height  at  Constantinople  and  in  many  other  cities, 
took  their  place.  In  the  West,  the  last  gladiatorial  show  was 
celebrated  at  Rome,  under  Honorius,  in  a.d.  404,  in  honour 
of  the  triumph  of  Stilicho,  when  an  Asiatic  monk,  named 
Telemachus,  animated  by  the  noblest  heroism  of  philanthropy, 
rushed  into  the  amphitheatre,  and  attempted  to  part  the  com- 
batants. He  perished  beneath  a shower  of  stones  flung  by 
the  angry  spectators;  but  his  death  led  to  the  final' abolition 
of  the  games.2  Combats  of  men  with  wild  beasts  continued, 
however,  much  later,  and  were  especially  popular  in  the  East. 
The  difficulty  of  procuring  wild  animals,  amid  the  general 
poverty,  contributed,  with  other  causes,  to  them  decline. 
They  sank,  at  last,  into  games  of  cruelty  to  animals,  but  of 
little  danger  to  men,  and  were  finally  condemned,  at  the  end 
of  the  seventh  centuiy,  by  the  Council  of  Trullo.3  In  Italy, 

1 He.  wavered,  however-,  on  tome  iii.  p.  423. 
the  subject,  and  on  one  occasion  2 Theodoret,  v.  26. 

condemned  them.  See  Wallon,  3 Muller,  he  Genio  Mvi  Thcty 

35 


38 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN'  MORALS. 


the  custom  of  sham  fights,  which  continued  through  the  whole 
of  the  middle  ages,  and  which  Petrarch  declares  were  in  hia 
days  sometimes  attended  with  considerable  bloodshed,  may 
perhaps  be  traced  m some  degree  to  the  traditions  of  the 
amphitheatre. 1 

The  extinction  of  the  gladiatorial  spectacles  is,  of  all  the 
results  of  early  Christian  influence,  that  upon  which  the 
historian  can  look  with  the  deepest  and  most  unmingled 
satisfaction.  Horrible  as  was  the  bloodshed  they  directly 
caused,  these  games  were  perhaps  still  more  pernicious  on 
account  of  the  callousness  of  feeling  they  diffused  through  all 
classes,  the  fatal  obstacle  they  presented  to  any  general  eleva- 
tion of  the  standard  of  humanity.  Yet  the  attitude  of  the 
Pagans  decisively  proves  that  no  progress  of  philosophy  or 
social  civilisation  was  likely,  for  a very  long  period,  to  have 
extirpated  them ; and  it  can  hardly  be  doubted  that,  had  they 
been  flourishing  unchallenged  as  in  the  days  of  Trajan,  when 
the  rude  warriors  of  the  North  obtained  the  empire  of  Italy, 
they  would  have  been  eagerly  adopted  by  the  conquerors, 
would  have  taken  deep  root  in  medieval  life,  and  have  inde- 
finitely retarded  the  progress  of  humanity.  Christianity 
alone  was  powerful  enough  to  tear  this  evil  plant  from  the 
Roman  soil.  The  Christian  custom  of  legacies  for  the  relief 
of  the  indigent  and  suffering  replaced  the  Pagan  custom  of 
bequeathing  sums  of  money  for  games  in  honour  of  the  dead , 
and  the  month  of  December,  which  was  looked  forward  to 
with  eagerness  through  all  the  Roman  world,  as  the  special 
season  of  the  gladiatorial  spectacles,  was  consecrated  in  the 
Church  by  another  festival  commemorative  of  the  advent  of 
Christ. 

The  notion  of  the  sanctity  of  human  life,  which  led  the 
early  Christians  to  combat  and  at  last  to  overthrow  the 

dosiani  (1797),  vol.  ii.  p.  88;  Mil-  1 See  on  these  fights  Ozanam’s 
man,  Hist,  of  Early  Christianity,  Civilisation  in  the  Fifth  Century 

?ol.  iii.  pp  343-347,  (Eng.  trans.),  vol.  i.  p.  130. 


FROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE. 


39 


gladiatorial  games,  was  earned  by  some  of  them  to  an  extent 
altogether  irreconcilable  with  national  independence,  and 
with  the  prevailing  penal  system.  Many  of  them  taught 
that  no  Christian  might  lawfully  take  away  life,  either  as  a 
soldier,  or  by  bringing  a capital  charge,  or  by  acting  as  an 
executioner.  The  first  of  these  questions  it  will  be  convenient 
to  reserve  for  a later  period  of  this  chapter,  when  I propose 
to  examine  the  relations  of  Christianity  to  the  military  spirit, 
and  a very  few  words  will  be  sufficient  to  dispose  of  the 
others.  The  notion  that  there  is  something  impure  and  de- 
filing, even  in  a just  execution,  is  one  which  may  be  traced 
through  many  ages ; and  executioners,  as  the  ministers  of  the 
law,  have  been  from  very  ancient  times  regarded  as  unholy. 
In  both  Greece  and  Rome  the  law  compelled  them  to  live 
outside  the  walls,  and  at  Rhodes  they  were  never  permitted 
even  to  enter  the  city.1  Notions  of  this  kind  were  very 
strongly  held  in  the  early  Church  ; and  a decree  of  the  peni- 
tential discipline  which  was  enforced,  even  against  emperors 
and  generals,  forbade  any  one  whose  hands  had  been  imbrued 
in  blood,  even  when  that  blood  was  shed  in  a righteous  war, 
approaching  the  altar  without  a preparatory  period  of  penance. 
The  opinions  of  the  Christians  of  the  first  three  centuries 
were  usually  formed  without  any  regard  to  the  necessities  of 
civil  or  political  life;  but  when  the  Church  obtained  an 
ascendancy,  it  was  found  necessary  speedily  to  modify  them  ; 
and  although  Lactantius,  in  the  fourth  century,  maintained 
the  unlawfulness  of  all  bloodshed,2  as  strongly  as  Origen  in 
tho  third,  and  Tertullian  in  the  second,  the  common  doctrine 
was  simply  that  no  priest  or  bishop  must  take  any  part  in  a 
capital  charge.  From  this  exceptional  position  of  the  clergy 
they  speedily  acquired  the  position  of  official  intercessors  for 

1 Nieupoort,  De  Bitibus  Bo-  earlier  testimonies  on  the  subject 

manorum,  p-  169.  are  given  by  Barbeyrac,  Morale des 

2 See  a very  unequivocal  pas-  Peres,  and  in  many  other  books, 
sage,  Inst.  Div,  vi.  20.  Several 


40 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


criminals,  ambassadors  of  mercy,  when,  from  some  act  of 
Bedition  or  other  cause,  then-  city  or  neighbourhood  was 
menaced  with  a bloody  invasion.  The  right  of  sanctuary, 
which  was  befoie  possessed  by  the  Imperial  statues  and  by 
the  Pagan  temples,  was  accorded  to  the  churches.  During 
the  holy  seasons  of  Lent  and  Easter,  no  criminal  trials  could 
be  held,  and  no  criminal  could  be  tortured  or  executed.1 
Miracles,  it  was  said,  were  sometimes  wrought  to  attest  the 
innocence  of  accused  or  condemned  men,  but  were  never 
wrought  to  consign  criminals  to  execution  by  the  civil 
power.2 

All  this  had  an  importance  much  beyond  its  immediate 
effect  in  tempering  the  administration  of  the  law.  It  con- 
tributed largely  to  associate  in  the  popular  imagination  the 
id  eas  of  sanctity  and  of  mercy,  and  to  increase  the  reverence 
for  human  life.  It  had  also  another  remarkable  effect,  to 
which  I have  adverted  in  another  work.  The  belief  that  it 
was  wrong  for  a priest  to  bring  any  charge  that  could  give  rise 
to  a capital  sentence  caused  the  leading  clergy  to  shrink  from 
persecuting  heresy  to  death,  at  a time  when  in  all  other 
respects  the  theory  of  persecution  had  been  fully  matured. 
When  it  was  readily  admitted  that  heresy  was  in  the  highest 
degree  criminal,  and  ought  to  be  made  penal,  when  laws  ban- 
ishing, fining,  or  imprisoning  heretics  filled  tho  statute-book, 
and  when  every  vestige  of  religious  liberty  was  suppressed  at 


1 See  two  laws  enacted  in  a.d. 
380  {Cod.  Thcod.  ix.  tit.  35,  1.  4) 
and  A.i).  389  {Cod.  Thcod.  ix.  tit. 
35,  1.  5).  Theodosius  the  Younger 
made  a law  (ix.  tit.  35, 1.  7)  except- 
ing the  Isaurian  robbers  from  the 
privileges  of  those  laws. 

* There  are,  of  course,  innu- 
merable miracles  punishing  guilty 
men,  but  I knou  none  assisting  the 
civil  power  in  doing  so.  As  an 
example  of  the  miracles  in  defence 
of  the  innocent,  I may  cite  one  by 


St.  Macarius.  An  innocent  man, 
accused  of  a murder,  fled  to  him. 
He  brought  both  the  accused  and 
accusers  to  tho  tomb  of  the  mur- 
dered man,  and  asked  him  whether 
the  prisoner  was  tho  murderer.  The 
corpse  answered  in  the  negative  ; 
the  bystanders  implored  St.  Maca- 
rius to  ask  it  to  revoal  the  real 
culprit;  but  St.  Macarius  refused 
to  do  so.  ( VitcB  Patrum,  lib.  ii 
cap.  xxviii.) 


PROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE. 


41 


the  instigation  of  the  clergy,  these  still  shrank  from  the  Iasi 
and  inevitable  step,  not  because  it  was  an  atrocious  violation 
of  the  rights  of  conscience,  but  because  it  was  contrary  to  the 
ecclesiastical  discipline  for  a bishop,  under  any  circumstances, 
to  countenance  bloodshed.  It  was  on  this  ground  that  St 
Augustine,  while  eagerly  advocating  the  persecution  of  the 
Donatists,  more  than  once  expressed  a wish  that  they  should 
not  be  punished  with  death,  and  that  St.  Ambrose,  and  St. 
Martin  of  Toims,  who  were  both  energetic  persecutors,  ex- 
pressed their  abhorrence  of  the  Spanish  bishops,  who  had 
caused  some  Priscillianists  to  be  executed.  I have  elsewhere 
noticed  the  odious  hypocrisy  of  the  later  inquisitors,  who  rele- 
gated the  execution  of  the  sentence  to  the  civil  power,  with 
a prayer  that  the  heretics  should  be  punished  ‘ as  mildly  as 
possible  and  without  the  effusion  of  blood,’1  which  came  at 
last  to  be  interpreted,  by  the  death  of  fire ; but  I may  here 
add,  that  this  hideous  mockery  is  not  unique  in  the  history  of 
religion.  Plutarch  suggests  that  one  of  the  reasons  for  bury- 
ing unchaste  vestals  alive  was  that  they  were  so  sacred  that 
it  was  unlawful  to  lay  violent  hands  upon  them,2  and  among 
the  Donatists  the  Circumcelliones  were  for  a time  accustomed 
to  abstain,  in  obedience  to  the  evangelical  command,  from  the 
use  of  the  sword,  while  they  beat  to  death  those  who  differed 
from  their  theological  opinions  with  massive  clubs,  to  which 
they  gave  the  very  significant  name  of  Israelites.3 

The  time  came  when  the  Christian  priests  shed  blood 
enough.  The  extreme  scrupulosity,  however,  which  they  at 
first  displayed,  is  not  only  exceedingly  curious  when  con- 
trasted with  their  later  history ; it  was  also,  by  the  association 
of  ideas  which  it  promoted,  very  favourable  to  humanity. 


1 ‘ U t quarn  clementissime  et 
ultra  sanguinis  eflusionem  punire- 
tur.’ 

2 Qucest.  Romance,  xevi. 

Tillemont,  Mem.  d'Hist  ?cc'h. 


tome  vi.  pp.  88-98.  The  Donatists 
after  a time,  however,  are  said  to 
have  overcome  their  scruples,  and 
used  swords. 


42 


HISTORY  OP  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


It  is  remarkable,  however,  that  while  some  of  the  eaiij 
Fathers  were  the  undoubted  precursors  of  Beccaria,  their 
teaching,  unlike  that  of  the  philosophers  in  the  eighteenth 
century,  had  little  or  no  appreciable  influence  in  mitigating 
the  severity  of  the  penal  code.  Indeed,  the  more  carefully 
the  Chiistian  legislation  of  the  Empire  is  examined,  and  the 
more  fully  it  is  compared  with  what  had  been  done  imder 
the  influence  of  Stoicism  by  the  Pagan  legislators,  the  more 
evident,  I think,  it  will  appear  that  the  golden  age  of  Roman 
law  was  not  Christian,  but  Pagan.  Great  works  of  codifica- 
tion were  accomplished  under  the  younger  Theodosius,  and 
under  Justinian ; but  it  was  in  the  reign  of  Pagan  emperors, 
and  especially  of  Hadrian  and  Alexander  Severus,  that 
nearly  all  the  most  important  measures  were  taken,  redress- 
ing injustices,  elevating  oppressed  classes,  and  making  the 
doctrine  of  the  natural  equality  and  fraternity  of  mankind 
the  basis  of  legal  enactments.  Receiving  the  heritage  of 
these  laws,  the  Christians,  no  doubt,  added  something ; but  a 
careful  examination  will  show  that  it  was  surprisingly  little. 
In  no  respect  is  the  greatness  of  the  Stoic  philosophers  more 
conspicuous  than  in  the  contrast  between  the  gigantic  steps 
of  legal  reform  made  in  a few  years  under  their  influence, 
and  the  almost  insignificant  steps  taken  when  Christianity 
had  obtained  an  ascendancy  in  the  Empire,  not  to  speak  of 
the  long  period  of  decrepitude  that  followed.  In  the  way  of 
mitigating  the  severity  of  punishments,  Constantine  made, 
it  is  true,  three  important  laws  prohibiting  the  custom  of 
branding  criminals  upon  the  face,  the  condemnation  of 
criminals  as  gladiators,  and  the  continuance  of  the  once 
degrading  but  now  sacred  punishment  of  crucifixion,  which 
had  been  very  commonly  employed ; but  these  measures 
were  more  than  counterbalanced  by  the  extreme  severity 
with  which  the  Christian  emperors  punished  infanticide, 
adultery,  seduction,  rape,  and  several  other  crimes,  and 
the  number  of  capital  offences  became  considerably  greatei 


FROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE. 


43 


than  before.1  The  most  prominent  evidence,  indeed,  of  eccle- 
siastical influence  in  the  Theodosian  code  is  that  which  must 
he  most  lamented.  It  is  the  immense  mass  of  legislation, 
intended  on  the  one  hand  to  elevate  the  clergy  into  a 
separate  and  sacred  caste,  and  on  the  other  to  persecute  in 
every  form,  and  with  every  degree  of  violence,  all  who 
deviated  from  the  fine  line  of  Catholic  orthodoxy.2 

The  last  consequence  of  the  Christian  estimate  of  human 
life  wa?  a very  emphatic  condemnation  of  suicide.  We  have 
already  seen  that  the  arguments  of  the  Pagan  moralists,  who 
were  opposed  to  this  act,  were  of  four  kinds.  The  religious 
argument  of  Pythagoras  and  Plato  was,  that  we  are  all 
soldiers  of  God,  placed  in  an  appointed  post  of  duty,  which  it 
is  a rebellion  against  our  Maker  to  desert.  The  civic  argu- 
ment of  Aristotle  and  the  Greek  legislators  was  that  we  owe 
our  services  to  the  State,  and  that  therefore  voluntarily  to 
abandon  life  is  to  abandon  our  duty  to  our  country.  Tlio 
argument  which  Plutarch  and  other  writers  derived  from 
human  dignity  was  that  true  courage  is  shown  in  the 
manful  endurance  of  suffering,  while  suicide,  being  an  act  of 
flight,  is  an  act  of  cowardice,  and  therefore  unworthy  of  man. 
The  mystical  or  Quietist  argument  of  the  Heoplatonists  was 
that  all  perturbation  is  a pollution  of  the  soul ; that  the  act 
of  suicide  is  accompanied  by,  and  springs  from,  perturbation, 


1 Under  the  Christian  kings,  the 
barbarians  multiplied  the  number 
of  capital  offences,  but  this  has 
usually  been  regarded  as  an  im- 
provement. The  Abb&  Mably  says : 
‘ Quoiqu'il  nous  reste  peu  d’ordon- 
nnnees  faites  sous  les  premiers 
M6rovingiens,  nous  voyons  qu’avant 
la  fin  du  sixi&me  si&cle,  les  Fran- 
cois avoient  d6ja  adopts  la  doctrine 
Balutaire  des  Eomains  au  sujet 
de  la  prescription  ; et  que  renon- 
qant  a cette  humanite  cruelle  qui 

les  enhardissoit  au  mal,  ils  infli- 
g&rent  peinedemortcontrel’inceste. 


le  vol  et  lo  meurtre  qui  jusques-la 
n’avoient  6te  punis  que  par  l’exil, 
ou  dont  on  se  rachetoit  par  uue 
composition.  Les  Francois,  en  re- 
formant  quelques-unes  de  leurs  lois 
civiles,  porthrent  la  severite  aussi 
loin  que  leurs  pferes  avoient  pousse 
l’indulgence.’— Mably,  Ohserv.  sur 
VHist.  des  Francois,  liv.  i.  ch.  iii. 
See,  too,  Gibbon’s  Decline  and  Fall, 
ch.  xxxviii. 

2 The  whole  of  the  sixth  volume 
of  Godefroy's  edition  (folio)  of  the 
Theodosian  code  is  Liken  up  wits 
laws  of  these  kinds. 


44  HISTORY  OP  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 

and  that  therefore  the  perpetrator  ends  his  days  by  a crime 
Of  these  four  arguments,  the  last  cannot,  I think,  be  said  to 
have  had  any  place  among  the  Christian  dissuasives  from 
suicide,  and  the  influence  of  the  second  was  almost  imper- 
ceptible. The  notion  of  patriotism  being  a moral  duty  was 
habitually  disco  imaged  in  the  early  Church ; and  it  was  im- 
possible to  urge  the  civic  argument  against  suicide  without 
at  the  same  time  condemning  the  hermit  life,  which  in  the 
third  century  became  the  ideal  of  the  Church.  The  duty  a 
man  owes  to  his  family,  which  a modern  moralist  would  deem 
the  most  obvious  and,  perhaps,  the  most  conclusive  proof  of 
the  general  criminality  of  suicide,  and  which  may  be  said  to 
have  replaced  the  civic  argument,  was  scarcely  noticed 
either  by  the  Pagans  or  the  early  Christians.  The  first 
were  accustomed  to  lay  so  much  stress  upon  the  authority, 
that  they  scarcely  recognised  the  duties,  of  the  father;  and 
the  latter  were  too  anxious  to  attach  all  their  ethics  to  the 
interests  of  another  world,  to  do  much  to  supply  the  omis- 
sion. The  Christian  estimate  of  the  duty  of  humility,  and 
of  the  degradation  of  man,  rendered  appeals  to  human  dig- 
nity somewhat  uncongenial  to  the  patristic  writers ; yet  these 
writers  frequently  dilated  upon  the  true  courage  of  patience, 
in  language  to  which  their  own  heroism  under  persecution 
gave  a noble  emphasis.  To  the  example  of  Cato  they  opposed 
those  of  Itegulus  and  Job,  the  courage  that  endures  suffering 
to  the  courage  that  confronts  death.  The  Platonic  doctrine, 
that  we  are  servants  of  the  Deity,  placed  upon  earth  to  per- 
form our  allotted  task  in  His  sight,  with  His  assistance,  and 
by  His  will,  they  continually  enforced  and  most  deeply 
realised  ; and  this  doctrine  was  in  itself,  in  most  cases, 
a sufficient  preventive ; for,  as  a great  writer  has  said  : 
‘ Though  there  are  many  crimes  of  a deeper  dye  than  suicide, 
there  is  no  other  by  which  men  appear  so  formally  to  ro 
nounce  the  protection  of  God.’1 

1 Mine,  do  Stael,  Reflexions  sur  le  Suicide. 


FROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE. 


45 


Bat,  in  addition  to  this  general  teaching,  the  Christian 
theologians  introduced  into  the  sphere  we  are  considering 
new  elements  both  of  terrorism  and  of  persuasion,  which 
have  had  a decisive  influence  upon  the  judgments  of  mankind. 
They  carried  them  doctrine  of  the  sanctity  of  human  life  to 
Buch  a point  that  they  maintained  dogmatically  that  a man 
who  destroys  his  own  life  has  committed  a crime  similar 
both  in  kind  and  magnitude  to  that  of  an  ordinary  mur- 
derer,1 and  they  at  the  same  time  gave  a new  character  to 
death  by  their  doctrines  concerning  its  penal  nature  and 
concerning  the  future  destinies  of  the  soul.  On  the  other 
hand,  the  high  position  assigned  to  resignation  in  the  moral 
scale,  the  hope  of  future  happiness,  which  casts  a ray  of 
light  upon  the  darkest  calamities  of  life,  the  deeper  and  more 
subtle  consolations  arising  from  the  feeling  of  trust  and  from 
the  outpouring  of  prayer,  and,  above  all,  the  Christian  doc- 
trine of  the  remedial  and  providential  character  of  suffer- 
ing, have  proved  sufficient  protection  against  despair.  The 
Christian  doctrine,  that  pain  is  a good,  had  in  this  respect 
an  influence  that  was  never  attained  by  the  Pagan  doctrine, 
that  pain  is  not  an  evil. 

There  were,  however,  two  forms  of  suicide  which  were 
regarded  in  the  early  Church  with  some  tolerance  or  hesita- 
tion. During  the  frenzy  excited  by  persecution,  and  under 
the  influence  of  the  belief  that  martyrdom  effaced  in  a mo- 
ment the  sins  of  a life,  and  introduced  the  sufferer  at  once 
into  celestial  joys,  it  was  not  uncommon  for  men,  in  a trans- 
port of  enthusiasm,  to  rush  before  the  Pagan  judges,  implor- 


1 The  following  became  the 
theological  doctrine  on  the  sub- 
ject: ‘ Est  vere  homicida  et  reus 
homicidii  qui  se  interficiendo  inno- 
centum  hominem  interfecerit.’ — 
Lisle,  j Du  Suicide,  p.  400.  St.  Au- 
gustine has  much  in  this  strain. 
Lucretia,  he  says,  either  consented 


to  the  act  of  Sextius,  or  she  did 
not.  In  the  first  case  she  was  an 
adulteress,  and  should  therefore 
not  be  admired.  In  the  second 
case  she  was  a murderess,  because 
in  killing  herself  she  killed  an 
innocent  and  virtuous  woman, 
(De  Civ,  Dei,  i.  19.) 


46 


HISTORY  OR  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


mg  or  provoking  martyrdom ; and  aome  of  the  ecclesiastical 
writers  have  spoken  of  these  men  with  considerable  admira- 
tion,1 though  the  general  tone  of  the  patristic  writings  and 
the  councils  of  the  Church  condemned  them.  A more  serious 
difficulty  arose  about  Christian  women  who  committed  suicide 
to  guard  their  chastity  when  menaced  by  the  infamous  sen- 
tences of  their  persecutors,  or  more  frequently  by  the  lust  of 
emperors,  or  by  barbarian  invaders.  St.  Pelagia,  a girl  of  only 
fifteen,  who  has  been  canonised  by  the  Church,  and  who  was 
warmly  eulogised  by  St.  Ambrose  and  St.  Chrysostom, 
having  been  captured  by  the  soldiery,  obtained  permission 
to  retire  to  her  room  for  the  purpose  of  robing  herself, 
mounted  to  the  roof  of  the  house,  and,  flinging  herself  down, 
perished  by  the  fall.2  A Christian  lady  of  Antioch,  named 
Domnina,  had  two  daughters  renowned  alike  for  their  beauty 
and  their  piety.  Being  captured  during  the  Diocletian  persecu  - 
tion,  and  fearing  the  loss  of  their  chastity,  they  agreed  by  one 
bold  act  to  free  themselves  from  the  danger,  and,  casting  them- 
selves into  a river  by  the  way,  mother  and  daughters  sank 
unsullied  in  the  wave.3  The  tyrant  Maxentius  was  fasci- 
nated by  the  beauty  of  a Christian  lady,  the  wife  of  the 
Prefect  of  Home.  Having  sought  in  vain  to  elude  his 
addresses,  having  been  dragged  from  her  house  by  the 
minions  of  the  tyrant,  the  faithful  wife  obtained  permission, 
before  yielding  to  her  master’s  embraces,  to  retire  for  a 
moment  into  her  chamber,  and  she  there,  with  true  Homan 
courage,  stabbed  herself  to  the  heart.4  Some  Protestant 


1 Justin  Martyr,  Tertullian,  and  fica  del  Suicidio  ragionato  (i  enozia, 
Cyprian  are  especially  ardent  in  1788),  pp.  135-1  -10. 
this  respect;  but  their  language  2 Ambrose,  De  Virginibus,  iii.  7. 

is,  J chink,  in  their  circumstances,  3 Eusebius,  Eccles.  Hist.  viii.  12. 

extremely  excusable.  Compare  4 Eusebius,  Eccles.  Hist.  viii. 

Barbeyrac,  Moralcdes  P&cs,  ch.  ii.  14.  Bayle,  in  his  article  upon 
§ 8;  ch.  viii.  §§  34-39.  Donne’s  Sophronia,  appears  to  be  greatly 
Bialhanatos  (ed.  1644),  pp.  fiR-67.  scandalised  at  this  act,  and  it  seems 
Cromaziano,  Istoria  critica  e filoso-  that  among  the  Catholics  it  is  not 


FROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE. 


4:7 


controversialists  have  been  scandalised,1  and  some  Catholic 
controversialists  perplexed,  by  the  undisguised  admiration 
with  which  the  early  ecclesiastical  writers  narrate  these  his 
tories.  To  those  who  have  not  suffered  theological  opinions 
to  destroy  all  their  natural  sense  of  nobility  it  will  need 
no  defence. 

This  was  the  only  form  of  avowed  suicide  which  was  in 
any  degree  permitted  in  the  early  Church.  St.  Ambrose 
rather  timidly,  and  St.  Jerome  more  strongly,  commended 
it ; but  at  the  time  when  the  capture  of  Rome  by  the  soldiers 
of  Alaric  made  the  question  one  of  pressing  interest,  St. 
Augustine  devoted  an  elaborate  examination  to  the  subject, 
and  while  expressing  his  pitying  admiration  for  the  virgin 
suicides,  decidedly  condemned  their  act.2  His  opinion  of 
the  absolute  sinfulness  of  suicide  has  since  been  generally 
adopted  by  the  Catholic  theologians,  who  pretend  that  Pela- 
gia and  Domnina  acted  under  the  impulse  of  a special  revela- 
tion.3 At  the  same  time,  by  a glaring  though  very  natural 


considered  right  to  admire  this 
poor  lady  as  much  as  her  sister 
suicides.  Tillemont  remarks: 

4 Comme  on  ne  voit  pas  que  l’egliso 
romaine  l’ait  jamais  houor4e,  nous 
n'avons  pas  le  mesme  droit  de  jus- 
tifier  son  action.’ — Hist,  ccclis. 
tome  v.  pp.  404,  405. 

1 Especially  Barbeyrac  in  his 
Morale  des  Peres.  He  was  an- 
swered by  Ceillier,  Cromaziano, 
and  others.  Matthew  of  West- 
minster relates  of  Ebba,  the  ab- 
bess of  a Yorkshire  convent  which 
was  besieged  by  the  Danes,  that 
she  and  all  the  other  nuns,  to  save 
their  chastity,  deformed  themselves 
by  cutting  off  their  noses  and  up- 
per lips.  (a.T).  870.) 

2 De  Civ.  Dei.  i.  22-7- 

0 This  had  been  suggested  by 
St.  Augustine.  In  the  case  of 


Pelagia,  Tillemont  finds  a strong 
argument  in  support  of  this  view 
in  the  astounding,  if  not  miracu- 
lous, fact  that,  having  thrown  her- 
self from  the  top  of  the  house,  sho 
was  actually  killed  by  the  fall! 

‘ Estant  months  tout  au  haut  de  sa 
rnaison,  fortifi&e  par  le  mouvement 
que  J.-C.  formoit  dans  son  coeur  et 
par  le  courage  qu’il  luy  inspiroit, 
elle  se  precipita  de  la  du  haut  en 
bas,  et  6chapa  ainsi  a tous  les 
pi^ges  de  ses  ennemis.  Son  corps 
en  tombant  a terre  frapa,  dit  S. 
Chrysostome,  les  yeux  du  demon 

plus  vivement  qu'un  eclair 

Ce  qui  marque  encore  que  Dieu 
agissoit  en  tout  ceci  e’est  qu’au 
lieu  que  ces  chutes  ne  sont  pas 
toujours  mortelles,  oar  que  souvent 
ne  brisant  quo  quelques  membres, 
olles  u’ostent  la  vie  que  longtcmps 


48 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


inconsistency,  no  characters  were  more  enthusiastically  ex 
tolled  than  those  anchorites  who  habitually  deprived  their 
bodies  of  the  sustenance  that  was  absolutely  necessary  to 
health,  and  thus  manifestly  abridged  their  lives.  St.  Jerom? 
ha»s  preserved  a curious  illustration  of  the  feeling  with  which 
these  slow  suicides  were  regarded  by  the  outer  world,  in 
his  accoimt  of  the  life  and  death  of  a young  nun  named 
Hies  ilia.  This  lady  had  been  guilty  of  what,  according  to 

the  religious  notions  of  the  fourth  century,  was,  at  least,  the 
frivolity  of  marrying,  but  was  left  a widow  seven  months 
afterwards,  having  thus  4 lost  at  once  the  crown  of  virginity 
and  the  pleasure  of  marriage.’ 1 An  attack  of  illness  inspired 
her  with  strong  religious  feelings.  At  the  age  of  twenty  she 
retired  to  a convent.  She  attained  such  a height  of  devotion 
that,  according  to  the  very  characteristic  eulogy  of  her  bio- 
grapher, ‘she  was  more  sorry  for  the  loss  of  her  virginity 
than  for  the  decease  of  her  husband ; ’ 2 and  a long  succes- 
sion of  atrocious  penances  preceded,  if  they  did  not  produce, 
her  death.3  The  conviction  that  she  had  been  killed  by  fast- 
ing, and  the  spectacle  of  the  uncontrollable  grief  of  her  mother, 
filled  the  populace  with  indignation,  and  the  funeral  was 
disturbed  by  tumultuous  cries  that  the  ‘accursed  race  of 
monks  should  be  banished  from  the  city,  stoned,  or  drowned.’4 
In  the  Church  itself,  however,  we  find  very  few  traces  of  any 
condemnation  of  the  custom  of  undermining  the  constitution 
by  austerities,5  and  if  we  may  believe  but  a small  part  of 

apr&s,  n.  l’un  ni  l’autre  n’arriva  en  cordetur  viginti  annorum  adoles- 
cette  rencontre ; mais  Dieu  retira  centulam  tam  ardenti  fide  crin-ij 
ar.ssitost  fame  de  la  sainte,  en  levasse  vexillum  ut  magis  amissanj 
sorte  qne  sa  mort  parnt  aut.ant  virginitatem  quam  marit'  dolcret 
l’effet  de  la  volonte  divine  que  de  interitum?’ — Ep.  xxxix. 
sa  chute.’ — Hint,  eccles.  tome  v.  3 For  a description  of  these 
pp.  401-402.  penances,  see  Ep.  xxxviii. 

1 • Et  virginitatis  coronam  et  4 Ep.  xxxix. 

nuptia'um  perdidit  voluptatem.’ — 5 St.  Jerome  gave  some  S6nsiUo 

Ep.  xx.  i.  advice  on  this  point  to  one  of  hia 

2 • Quis  enim  siccis  oculis  re-  admirers.  (Ep.  exxv.) 


FROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE. 


49 


what  is  related  of  the  habits  of  the  early  and  mediaeval  monks, 
great  numbers  of  them  must  have  thus  shortened  their  days. 
There  is  a touching  story  told  by  St.  Bonaventura,  of  St. 
Francis  Assisi,  who  was  one  of  these  victims  to  asceticism 
As  the  dying  saint  sank  back  exhausted  with  spitting  blood,  he 
avowed,  as  he  looked  upon  his  emaciated  body,  that  ‘ he  had 
sinned  against  his  brother,  the  ass  ; ’ and  then,  the  feeling  of 
bis  mind  taking,  as  was  usual  with  him,  the  form  of  an  hal- 
lucination, he  imagined  that,  when  at  prayer  during  the  night, 
he  heard  a voice  saying  : ‘ Francis,  there  is  no  sinner  in  the 
world  whom,  if  he  be  converted,  God  will  not.  pardon ; but 
he  who  kills  himself  by  hard  penances  will  find  no  mercy  in 
eternity.’  He  attributed  the  voice  to  the  devil.1 

Direct  and  deliberate  suicide,  which  occupies  so  promi- 
nent a place  in  the  moral  history  of  antiquity,  almost  abso- 
lutely disappeared  within  the  Church ; but  beyond  its  pale 
the  Circumcelliones,  in  the  fourth  century,  constituted  them- 
selves the  apostles  of  death,  and  not  only  carried  to  the  highest 
point  the  custom  of  provoking  martyrdom,  by  challenging  and 
insulting  the  assemblies  of  the  Pagans,  but  even  killed  them- 
selves in  great  numbers,  imagining,  it  would  seem,  that  this 
was  a form  of  martyrdom,  and  would  secure  for  them  eternal 
salvation.  Assembling  in  hundreds,  St.  Augustine  says  even 
in  thousands,  they  leaped  with  paroxysms  of  frantic  joy  from 
the  brows  of  overhanging  cliffs,  till  the  rocks  below  were  red- 
dened with  their  blood.2  At  a much  later  period,  we  find 
among  the  Albigenses  a practice,  known  by  the  name  of 
Endura,  of  accelerating  death,  in  the  case  of  dangerous  illness, 
by  fasting,  and  sometimes  by  bleeding.3  The  wretched  Jews, 
stung  to  madness  by  the  persecution  of  the  Catholics,  furnish 


■ Hase,  St.  Frangois  d’ Assise,  have  given  accounts  of  these  sui- 
^p.  137-138.  St.  Palaemon  is  said  cides  in  their  works  against  the 
to  have  died  of  his  austerities.  Donatists. 

( I 'it.  S.  Pachomii.)  3 See  Todd’s  Life  of  St.  Patrick, 

s St.  Augustine  and  St.  Optatus  p.  462. 


50 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


the  most  numerous  examples  of  suicide  during  the  middle 
ages.  A multitude  perished  by  their  own  bauds,  to  avoid 
torture,  in  France,  in  1095;  five  himdred,  it  is  said,  on  a 
single  occasion  at  York ; five  hundred  in  1320,  when  besieged 
by  the  Shepherds.  The  old  Pagan  legislation  on  this  subject 
remained  unaltered  in  the  Theodosian  and  Justinian  codes  ; 
but  a Council  of  Arles,  in  the  fifth  century,  having  pronounced 
suicide  to  be  the  effect  of  diabolical  inspiration,  a Council  of 
Bragues,  in  the  following  century,  ordained  that  no  religious 
rites  should  be  celebrated  at  the  tomb  of  the  culprit,  and  that 
no  masses  should  be  said  for  Ins  soul ; and  these  provisions, 
which  were  repeated  by  later  Councils,  were  gradually  intro- 
duced into  the  laws  of  the  barbarians  and  of  Charlemagne.  St. 
Lewis  originated  the  custom  of  confiscating  the  property  of  tin 
dead  man,  and  the  corpse  was  soon  subjected  to  gross  and  vari- 
ous outrages.  In  some  coimtries  it  could  only  be  removed  from 
the  house  through  a perforation  specially  made  for  the  occasion 
in  the  wall ; it  was  dragged  upon  a hurdle  through  the  streets, 
hung  up  with  the  head  downwards,  and  at  last  thrown  into 
the  public  sewer,  or  burnt,  or  buried  in  the  sand  below 
high-water  mark,  or  transfixed  by  a stake  on  the  public 
highway.1 

These  singularly  hideous  and  at  the  same  time  grotesque 
customs,  and  also  the  extreme  injustice  of  reducing  to  beg- 
gary the  unhappy  relations  of  the  dead,  had  the  very  natural 
effect  of  exciting,  in  the  eighteenth  century,  a strong  spirit  of 


1 The  whole  history  of  suie.de 
in  the  dark  ages  has  been  most 
minutely  and  carefully  examined 
by  M.  Bourquekt,  in  a very  in- 
teresting series  of  memoirs  in  the 
third  and  fourth  volumes  of  the 
Bihliotheque  dc  Vfccole  des  Ckartes. 
I am  much  indebted  to  these  me- 
moirs in  the  following  pages.  See, 
too,  Lisle,  Du  Suicide,  Siutistique, 
Med  seine,  Histoire,  et  Legislation. 


(Paris,  1856.)  The  ferocious  laws 
here  recounted  contrast  remarkably 
with  a law  in  the  Capitularies  (lib. 
vi.  lex  70),  which  provides  that 
though  mass  may  not  be  celebrated 
for  a suicide,  any  private  person 
may,  through  charity,  cause  prayers 
to  be  offered  up  for  hie  soul. 
‘ Quia  incomprehensibilia  sunt  ju- 
dieia  Doi,  et  profunditatem  con 
silii  ejus  nemo  potest  investigare. 


FROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE. 


51 


f motion.  Suicide  is  indeed  one  of  those  acts  which  may  be 
condemned  by  moralists  as  a sin.  but  which,  in  modern  times 
at  least,  cannot  he  regarded  as  within  the  legitimate  sphere 
of  law ; for  a society  which  accords  to  its  members  perfect 
liberty  of  emigration,  cannot  reasonably  pronounce  the  simple 
renunciation  of  life  to  be  an  offence  against  itself.  When, 
however,  Beccaria  and  his  followers  went  further,  and  main- 
tained that  the  mediaeval  laws  on  the  subject  were  as  impotent 
as  they  were  revolting,  they  fell,  I think,  into  serious  error. 
The  outrages  lavished  upon  the  corpse  of  the  suicide,  though 
in  the  first  instance  an  expression  of  the  popular  horror  of 
his  act,  contributed,  by  the  associations  they  formed,  to 
strengthen  the  feeling  that  produced  them,  and  they  were 
also  peculiarly  fitted  to  scare  the  diseased,  excited,  and  over- 
sensitive imaginations  that  are  most  prone  to  suicide.  In  the 
rare  occasions  when  the  act  was  deliberately  contemplated, 
the  knowledge  that  religious,  legislative,  and  social  influences 
would  combine  to  aggravate  to  the  utmost  the  agony  of  the 
surviving  relatives,  must  have  had  great  w-ight.  The  acti- 
vity of  the  Legislature  shows  the  continuance  of  the  act;  but 
we  have  every  reason  to  believe  that  within  the  pale  of 
Catholicism  it  was  for  many  centuries  extremely  rare.  It  is 
said  to  have  been  somewhat  prevalent  in  Spain  in  the  last 
and  most  corrupt  period  of  the  Gothic  kingu<  m,‘  and  many 
instances  occurred  during  a great  pestilence  which  raged 
in  England  in  the  seventh  century,1 2  and  aho  during  the 
Black  Death  of  the  fourteenth  century.3  When  the  wives 
of  priests  were  separated  in  vast  numbers  from  their  hus- 
bands by  Hildebrand,  and  driven  into  the  world  blmted, 
heart-broken,  and  hopeless,  not  a few  of  them  sho  Gened 


1 See  the  very  interesting  work  2 Roger  of  Wendover,  A.n.  ( S5 

vf  the  Abbe  Bourret,  VEcole  chreti - 3 Esquirol,  Maladies  menu  les, 

enne  de  Seville  sous  la  monarchie  tome  i p.  591. 
dcs  Visigoths  (Paris,  1855),  p.  196. 


52 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


their  agony  hv  suicide. 1 Among  women  it  was  in  general 
especially  rare ; and  a learned  historian  of  suicide  has  even 
asserted  that  a Spanish  lady,  who,  being  separated  from  her 
husband,  and  finding  herself  unable  to  resist  the  energy  of 
her  passions,  killed  herself  rather  than  yield  to  tempi  ition, 
is  the  only  instance  of  female  suicide  during  several  centuries.2 
In  the  romances  of  chivalry,  however,  this  mode  of  death  is 
frequently  pourtrayed  without  horror,3  and  its  criminality 
was  discussed  at  considerable  length  by  Abelard  and  St. 
Thomas  Aquinas,  while  Dante  has  devoted  some  fine  lines  to 
painting  the  condition  of  suicides  in  hell,  where  they  are  also 
frequently  represented  in  the  bas-reliefs  of  cathedrals.  A 
melancholy  leading  to  desperation,  and  known  to  theologians 
under  the  name  of  ‘ acedia,’  was  not  uncommon  in  monasteries, 
and  most  of  the  recorded  instances  of  mediaeval  suicides  in 
Catholicism  were  by  monks.  The  frequent  suicides  of  monks, 
sometimes  to  escape  the  world,  sometimes  through  despair  at 
their  inability  to  quell  the  propensities  of  the  body,  sometimes 
through  insanity  produced  by  their  mode  of  life,  and  by  their 
dread  of  surrounding  demons,  were  noticed  in  the  early  Church,4 


1 Lea’s  History  of  Sacerdotal 
Celibacy  (Philadelphia,  1807),  p. 
248. 

2 ‘ Per  lo  corso  di  molti  secoli 
abbiamo  questo  solo  suicidio  don- 

nesco,  e buona  cosa  t non  averne 
piu  d’uno  ; perchh  io  non  credo  che 

ia  impudicizia  istessa  sia  peggiore 
di  questa  disperata  castita.’ — Cro- 
muziano,  1st.  del.  Suicidio,  p.  1 26. 
Mariana,  who,  under  the  frock  of 
a Jesuit,  bore  the  heart  of  an  an- 
cient Roman,  treats  the  case  in  a 
very  different  manner.  ‘ Ejus 
Ivor  Maria  Coronelia  cum  mariti 
ubsentiam  non  ferret,  ne  praris 
cupiditatibus  cederet,  vitam  posuit, 
ardentem  forte  libidinem  igne  ex- 
tinguens  adacto  per  muliebria 


titione ; digram  meliori  seculo 
foeminam,  insigne  stuiium  casti- 
tatis.’ — Be  Rebus  Hispan.  xvi.  17. 

3  A number  of  passages  are 
cited  by  Bourquelot. 

1 This  is  noticed  by  St.  Gregory 
Nazianzen  in  a little  poem  which 
is  given  in  Migne’s  edition  of  T/u 
Greek  Fathers,  tome  xxxvii.  p. 
1459.  St.  Nilus  and  the  biogra- 
pher of  St.  Paehomius  speak  of 
these  suicides,  and  St.  Chrysostom 
wrote  a letter  of  consolation  to  a 
young  monk,  named  Stagirius, 
which  is  still  extant,  encouraging 
him  to  resist  the  temptation.  See 
Neander,  Ecclesiastical  Hist,  vol, 
iii.  pp.  319,  320. 


FROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE. 


53 


a few  examples  have  been  gleaned,  from  the  medireval 
chronicles,1  of  suicides  produced  by  the  bitterness  of  hopeless 
love,  or  by  the  derangement  that  follows  extreme  austerity. 
These  are,  however,  but  few  ; and  it  is  probable  that  the 
monasteries,  by  providing  a refuge  for  the  disappointed  and  the 
broken-hearted,  have  prevented  more  suicides  than  they  have 
caused,  and  that,  during  the  whole  period  of  Catholic  ascend- 
ancy, the  act  was  more  rare  than  before  or  after.  The 
influence  of  Catholicism  was  seconded  by  Mohammedanism, 
which,  on  this  as  on  many  other  points,  borrowed  its  teaching 
from  the  Christian  Church,  and  even  intensified  it;  for 
suicide,  which  is  never  expressly  condemned  in  the  Bible,  is 
more  than  once  forbidden  in  the  Koran,  and  the  Christian 
duty  of  resignation  was  exaggerated  by  the  Moslem  into  a 
complete  fatalism.  Under  the  empire  of  Catholicism  and 
Mohammedanism,  suicide,  during  many  centimes,  almost 
absolutely  ceased  in  all  the  civilised,  active,  and  progressive 
part  of  mankind.  When  we  recollect  how  warmly  it  was 
applauded,  or  how  faintly  it  was  condemned,  in  the  civilisa- 
tion of  Greece  and  Borne;  when  we  remember,  too,  that 
there  was  scarcely  a barbarous  tribe,  from  Denmark  to  Spain, 
who  did  not  habitually  practise  it,2  we  may,  realise  the  com- 


1 Bourquelot.  Pinel  notices 
( Traite  medico-philosophique  sur 
V Alienation  mentale  (2nd  ed.),  pp. 
44-46)  the  numerous  cases  of  in- 
sanity still  produced  by  strong 
religious  feeling ; and  the  history  of 
the  movements  called  ‘revivals,’  in 
vhe  present  century,  supplies  much 
evidence  to  the  same  effect.  Pinel 
says,  religious  insanity  tends  pecu- 
liarly to  suicide  (p.  265) 

2 Orosius  notices  (Hist.  v.  14) 
that  of  all  the  Gauls  conquered  by 
Q.  Marcius,  there  were  none  who 
did  not  prefer  death  to  slavery. 
The  Spaniards  were  famous  for 
their  suicides,  to  avoid  old  age  as 


well  as  slavery.  Odin,  who,  under 
different  names,  was  the  supreme 
divinity  of  most  of  the  Northern 
tribes,  is  said  to  have  ended  hi  a 
earthly  life  by  suicide.  Boadicea, 
the  grandest  figure  of  early  British 
history,  and  Cordeilla,  or  Cordelia, 
the  most  pathetic  figure  of  early 
British  romance,  were  both  sui- 
cides. (See  on  the  first,  Tacitus, 
Ann.  xiv.  35-37,  andou  the  second 
Geoffrey  of  Monmouth,  ii.  15 — a 
version  from  which  Shakspeare  has 
considerably  diverged,  hut  which  is 
faithfully  followed  by  Spenser, 
(Faery  Queen,  book  ii.  canto  10.) 


54 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


plete  levolution  which  was  effected  in  this  sphere  by  (ha 
influence  of  Christianity. 

A few  words  may  be  added  on  the  later  phases  of  this 
mournful  history.  The  Reformation-docs  not  seem  to  have 
had  any  immediate  effect  in  multiplying  suicide,  for  Pro- 
testants and  Catholics  held  with  equal  intensity  the  religious 
sentiments  which  are  most  fitted  to  prevent  it,  and  in  none  of 
the  persecutions  was  impatience  of  life  largely  displayed. 
The  history  at  this  period  passes  chiefly  into  the  new  world, 
where  the  unhappy  Indians,  reduced  to  slavery,  and  treated 
with  atrocious  cruelty  by  their  conquerors,  killed  themselves 
in  great  numbers ; till  the  Spaniards,  it  is  said,  discovered  an 
ingenious  method  of  deterring  them,  by  declaring  that  the 
master  also  would  commit  suicide,  and  would  pursue  his 
victims  into  the  world  of  spirits. 1 In  Europe  the  act  was  very 
common  among  the  witches,  who  underwent  all  the  suffer- 
ings with  none  of  the  consolations  of  martyrdom.  Without 
enthusiasm,  without  hope,  without  even  the  consciousness  of 
innocence,  decrepit  in  body,  and  distracted  in  mind,  com- 
pelled in  this  world  to  endure  tortures,  before  which  the 
most  impassioned  heroism  might  quail,  and  doomed,  as 
they  often  believed,  to  eternal  damnation  in  the  next,  they 
not  unfrequently  killed  themselves  in  the  agony  of  their 
despair.  A French  judge  named  Remy  tells  us  that  he  knew 
no  less  than  fifteen  witches  commit  suicide  in  a single  year.2 


1 ‘In  our  ago,  when  the  Spani- 
ards extended  that  law  which  was 

made  only  against  the  cannibals, 
that  they  who  would  not  accept 
(he  Christian  religion  should  incur 
bondage,  the  Indians  in  infinite 
numbers  escaped  this  by  killing 
themselves,  and  never  ceased  till 
the  Spaniards,  by  some  eounter- 
feitings,  made  them  think  that 
they  also  would  kill  themselves, 
and  follow  them  with  the  same 


severity  into  the  next  life. — 
Donne’s  Biatkanatos,  p.  56  (ed. 
1644).  On  the  evidence  of  the 
early  travellers  on  this  point,  see 
the  essay  on  ‘ England’s  Forgotten 
Worthies,’  in  Mr.  Froude’s  Short 
Studies. 

2 Lisle,  pp.  427-434.  Sprenger 
has  noticed  the  same  tendency 
among  the  witches  he  tried.  See 
Calmeil,  Dc  la  Folie  (Paris,  1845), 
tome  l.  pp.  161,  303-305. 


FROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE. 


55 


Iii  these  cases,  fear  and  madness  combined  in  urging  the 
victims  to  the  deed.  Epidemics  of  purely  insane  suicide 
have  also  not  unfrequently  occurred.  Both  the  women  of 
Marseilles  and  the  women  of  Lyons  were  afflicted  with  an 
epidemic  not  unlike  that  which,  in  antiquity,  had  been  no- 
ticed among  the  girls  of  Miletus.1  In  that  strange  mania 
which  raged  in  the  Neapolitan  districts  from  the  end  of  the 
fifteenth  to  the  end  of  the  seventeenth  century,  and  which 
was  attributed  to  the  bite  of  the  tarantula,  the  patients 
thronged  in  multitudes  towards  the  sea,  and  often,  as  the  blue 
waters  opened  to  their  view,  they  chanted  a wild  hymn  of 
welcome,  and  rushed  with  passion  into  the  waves.2  But 
together  with  these  cases,  which  belong  rather  to  the  history 
of  medicine  than  to  that  of  morals,  we  find  many  facts  ex- 
hibiting a startling  increase  of  deliberate  suicide,  and  a no 
less  startling  modification  of  the  sentiments  with  which  it 
was  regarded.  The  revival  of  classical  learning,  and  the 
growing  custom  of  regarding  Greek  and  Roman  heroes  as 
ideals,  necessarily  brought  the  subject  into  prominence.  The 
Catholic  casuists,  and  at  a later  period  philosophers  of  the 
school  of  Grotius  and  Puffendorf,  began  to  distinguish  certain 
cases  of  legitimate  suicide,  such  as  that  committed  to  avoid 
dishonour  or  probable  sin,  or  that  of  the  soldier  who  fires  a 
mine,  knowing  he  must  inevitably  perish  by  the  explosion, 
or  that  of  a condemned  person  who  saves  himself  from  torture 
by  anticipating  an  inevitable  fate,  or  that  of  a man  who 
offers  himself  to  death  for  his  friend.3  The  effect  of  the 


1 On  modern  suicides  the  reader 
may  consult  Winslow’s  Anatomy  of 
Suicide  ; as  well  as  the  work  of  M. 
Lisle,  and  also  Esquirol,  Maladies 
mentales  (Paris,  1838),  tome  i.  pp. 
62G-676. 

2 Hecker’s  Epidemics  of  the 
Middle  Ages  (London,  1814),  p. 

121.  Hecker  in  his  very  curious 
essay  on  this  mania,  has  preserved 


a verso  of  their  song  : — 

‘ Allu  mari  mi  portati 
Se  voleti  che  mi  eanati, 

Allu  mari,  alia  via, 

Cosi  m’  ama  la  donna  mia, 

Allu  mari,  allu  mari, 

Mentro  campo,  t’  aggio  amari. 

8 Cromaziano,  1st.  del  Suicidio, 
caps.  viii.  ix. 


56 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


Pagan  examples  may  frequently  be  detected  in  the  last 
words  or  writings  of  the  suicides.  Philip  Sfcrozzi,  when 
accused  of  the  assassination  of  Alexander  I.  of  Tuscany, 
killed  himself  through  fear  that  torture  might  extort  from 
him  revelations  injurious  to  his  friends,  and  he  left  behind 
him  a paper  in  which,  among  other  things,  he  commended 
his  soul  to  God,  with  the  prayer  that,  if  no  higher  boon  could 
be  granted,  he  might  at  least  he  permitted  to  have  his  place 
with  Cato  of  Utica  and  the  other  great  suicides  of  antiquity.1 
In  England,  the  act  appears  in  the  seventeenth  century  and  in 
the  first  half  of  the  eighteenth  to  have  been  more  common 
than  upon  the  Continent,2  and  several  partial  or  even  unquali- 
fied apologies  for  it  were  written.  Sir  Thomas  More,  in 
bis  ‘ Utopia,’  represented  the  priests  and  magistrates  of  his 
ideal  republic  permitting  or  even  enjoining  those  who  were 
afflicted  with  incurable  disease  to  kill  themselves,  but  de- 
priving of  burial  those  who  had  done  so  without  authorisa- 
tion.3 Dr.  Donne,  the  learned  and  pious  Dean  of  St.  Paul’s, 
had  in  his  youth  written  an  extremely  curious,  subtle,  and 
learned,  but  at  the  same  time  feeble  and  involved,  work  in 
defence  of  suicide,  which  on  his  deathbed  he  commanded  his 
son  neither  to  publish  nor  destroy,  and  which  his  son  pub- 
lished in  1644.  Two  or  three  English  suicides  left  behind 
them  elaborate  defences,  as  did  also  a Swede  named  Pobeck, 
who  drowned  himself  in  1735,  and  whose  treatise,  published 
in  the  following  year,  acquired  considerable  celebrity.4  Bid 


1 Cromaziano,  pp.  92-93. 

2 Montesquieu,  and  many  Con- 

tinental writers,  have  noticed  this, 
and  most  English  writers  of  the 
eighteenth  century  seem  to  admit 
the  charge.  There  do  not  appear, 
however,  to  have  been  any  accu- 
rate statistics,  and  the  general 
statements  are  very  untrustworthy. 
Suicides  were  supposed  to  be 
especially  numerous  under  the  de- 

pressing influence  of  English  win- 


ter fogs.  The  statistics  made  in 
the  present  century  prove  beyond 
question  that  they  are  most  nume 
rous  in  summer. 

3 Utopia,  book  ii.  ch.  vi. 

4 A sketch  of  his  life,  whica 
was  rather  curious,  is  given  by 
Cromaziano,  pp.  148-151.  There 
is  a long  note  on  the  early  litera- 
ture in  defence  of  suicide,  in  Du- 
mas, Traitedu  Suicide  (Amsterdam, 
1723),  pp.  148-149.  Dumas  was 


FROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE. 


57 


the  most  influential  writings  about  suicide  were  those  of  the 
French  pliilosophers  and  revolutionists.  Montaigne,  without 
discussing  its  abstract  lawfulness,  recounts,  with  much  ad- 
miration, many  of  the  instances  in  antiquity.1  Montesquieu, 
in  a youthful  work,  defended  it  with  ardent  enthusiasm.2 
.Rousseau  devoted  to  the  subject  two  letters  of  a burning  and 
passionate  eloquence,3  in  the  fust  of  which  he  presented  with 
matchless  power  the  arguments  in  its  favour,  while  in  the 
second  he  denounced  those  arguments  as  sophistical,  dilated 
upon  the  impiety  of  abandoning  the  post  of  duty,  and  upon  the 
cowardice  of  despair,  and  with  a deep  knowledge  of  the  human 
heart  revealed  the  selfishness  that  lies  at  the  root  of  most 
suicide,  exhorting  all  who  felt  impelled  to  it  to  set  about 
some  work  for  the  good  of  others,  in  which  they  would 
assuredly  find  relief.  Voltaire,  in  the  best-known  couplet 
he  ever  wrote,  defends  the  act  on  occasions  of  extreme 
necessity.4  Among  the  atheistical  party  it  was  warmly 
eulogised,  and  Holbach  and  Deslandes  were  prominent  as  its 
defenders.  The  rapid  decomposition  of  religious  opinions 
weakened  the  popular  sense  of  its  enormity,  and  at  the  same 
time  the  humanity  of  the  age,  and  also  a clearer  sense  of  the 


a Protestant  minister  who  wrote 
against  suicide.  Among  the 
English  apologists  for  suicide 
(which  he  himself  committed)  was 
Blount,  the  translator  of  the  Life 
of  Apollonius  of  Tyana , and  Creech, 
an  editor  of  Lucretius.  Concern- 
ing the  former  there  is  a note  in 
Bayle’s  Diet.  art.  ‘ Apollonius.’ 
The  latter  is  noticed  by  Voltaire  in 
his  Lettres  Philos.  He  wrote  as  a 
memorandum  on  the  margin  of  his 
‘ Lucretius,’  ‘ N.B.  When  I have 
finished  my  Commentary  I must 
kill  myself ; ’ which  he  accordingly 
did — Voltaire  says  to  imitate  his 
favourite  author.  (Voltaire,  Diet, 
phil.  art.  ‘ Caton.') 


1 Essais,  liv.  ii.  ch.  xiii. 

2 Lettres  persanes,  lxxvi. 

s Nouvelle  Helo'ise , partie  iii. 
let.  21-22.  Esquirol  gives  a curi- 
ous illustration  of  the  way  the 
influence  of  Rousseau  penetrated 
through  all  classes.  A little  child 
of  thirteen  committed  suicide, 
leaving  a writing  beginning:  ‘Je 
legue  mon  4me  a Rousseau,  mon 
corps  a la  terre.’ — Maladies  men- 
tales,  tome  i.  p.  588. 

4 In  general,  however,  Voltaire 
was  extremely  opposed  to  the  phi- 
losophy of  despair,  but  he  certainly 
approved  of  some  forms  of  suicide. 
See  the  articles  ‘ Caton  ’ and  ‘ Sui- 
cide,- in  his  Diet,  philos. 


58 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


true  limits  of  legislation,  produced  a reaction  against  the 
horrible  laws  on  the  subject.  Grotius  had  defended  them. 
Montesquieu  at  first  denounced  them  with  unqualified  energy, 
but  in  his  later  years  in  some  degree  modified  Iris  opinions, 
Beccaria,  who  was,  more  than  any  other  writer,  the  repre 
tentative  of  the  opinions  of  the  French  school  on  such  mat- 
ters, condemned  them  partly  as  unjust  to  the  innocent 
survivors,  partly  as  incapable  of  deterring  any  man  who  was 
resolved  upon  the  act.  Even  in  1749,  in  the  full  blaze  of 
the  philosophic  movement,  we  find  a suicide  named  Fortier 
dragged  through  the  streets  of  Paris  with  his  face  to  the 
ground,  hung  from  a gallows  by  his  feet,  and  then  thrown  into 
the  sewers  ; 1 and  the  laws  were  not  abrogated  till  the  Revo- 
lution,  which,  having  founded  so  many  other  forms  of  freedom, 
accorded  the  liberty  of  death.  Amid  the  dramatic  vicissi- 
tudes, and  the  fierce  enthusiasm  of  that  period  of  convulsions, 
suicides  immediately  multiplied.  ‘ The  world,’  it  was  said, 
had  been  ‘ empty  since  the  Romans.’ 2 For  a brief  period, 
and  in  this  one  country,  the  action  of  Christianity  appeared 
suspended.  Men  seemed  to  be  transported  again  into  the 
age  of  Paganism,  and  the  suicides,  though  more  theatrical, 
were  perpetrated  with  no  less  deliberation,  and  eulogised 
with  no  less  enthusiasm,  than  among  the  Stoics.  But  the 
tide  of  revolution  passed  away,  and  with  some  qualifications 
the  old  opinions  resumed  them  authority.  The  laws  against 
suicide  were,  indeed,  for  the  most  part  abolished.  In  France 
and  several  other  lands  there  exists  no  legislation  on  the 
subject.  In  other  countries  the  law  simply  enjoins  burial 
without  religious  ceremonies.  In  England,  the  burial  in  a 
highway  and  the  mutilation  by  a stake  were  abolished  undei 
George  IV. ; but  the  monstrous  injustice  of  confiscating  to 
the  Crown  the  entire  property  of  the  deliberate  suicide  still 

1 Lislo,  Du,  Suicide,  pp.  411,  Romanis.’ — St.- Just,  Vioces  i» 

4)2.  Danton. 

1 ‘Le  mor.de  est.  vide  dopuis  les 


FROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE. 


59 


disgraces  the  statute-book,  though  the  force  of  public  opinion 
end  the  charitable  perjury  of  juries  render  it  inoperative. 

The  common  sentiment  of  Christendom  has,  however, 
ratified  the  judgment  which  the  Christian  teachers  pronounced 
upon  the  act,  though  it  has  somewhat  modified  the  severity  of 
the  old  censure,  and  has  abandoned  some  of  the  old  argu- 
ments. It  was  reserved  for  Madame  de  Stael,  who,  in  a youth- 
fid  work  upon  the  Passions,  had  commended  suicide,  to  recon- 
struct this  department  of  ethics,  which  had  been  somewhat 
disturbed  by  the  lie  volution,  and  she  did  so  in  a little  trea- 
tise which  is  a model  of  calm,  candid,  and  philosophic  piety. 
Frankly  abandoning  the  old  theological  notions  that  the 
deed  is  of  the  nature  of  murder,  that  it  is  the  worst 
of  crimes,  and  that  it  is  always,  or  even  generally,  the 
offspring  of  cowardice ; abandoning,  too,  all  attempts  to 
scare  men  by  religious  terrorism,  she  proceeded,  not  so  much 
to  meet  in  detail  the  isolated  arguments  of  its  defenders, 
as  to  sketch  the  ideal  of  a truly  virtuous  man,  and  to  show 
how  such  a character  would  secure  men  against  all  temp- 
tation to  suicide.  In  pages  of  the  most  tender  beauty,  she 
traced  the  inlluence  of  suffering  in  softening,  purifying,  and 
deepening  the  character,  and  showed  how  a frame  of  habi- 
tual and  submissive  resignation  was  not  only  the  highest 
duty,  but  also  the  source  of  the  purest  consolation,  and  at 
the  same  time  the  appointed  condition  of  moral  ameliora- 
tion. Having  examined  in  detail  the  Biblical  aspect  of 
the  question,  she  proceeded  to  show  how  the  true  measure 
of  the  dignity  of  man  is  his  unselfishness.  She  contrasted 
the  martyr  with  the  suicide— the  death  which  spring  from 
devotion  to  duty  with  the  death  that  springs  from  re- 
bellion against  circumstances.  The  suicide  of  Cato,  which 
had  been  absurdly  denounced  by  a crowd  of  ecclesiastics  aa 
an  act  of  cowardice,  and  as  absurdly  alleged  by  many  suicides 
as  a justification  for  Hying  from  pain  or  poverty,  she  re- 
presented as  an  act  of  martyrdom — a death  like  that  of 


60 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


Cintius,  accepted  nobly  for  the  benefit  of  Borne.  The  eye 
of  the  good  man  should  be  for  ever  fixed  upon  the  interest  of 
others.  For  them  he  should  be  prepared  to  relinquish  life 
with  all  its  blessings.  For  them  he  should  be  prepared  to 
tolerate  life,  even  when  it  seemed  to  him  a curse. 

Sentiments  of  this  kind  have,  through  the  influence  cf 
Christianity,  thoroughly  pervaded  European  society,  and 
suicide,  in  modem  t mes,  is  almost  always  found  to  have 
sprung  either  from  absolute  insanity ; from  diseases  which, 
though  not  amounting  to  insanity,  are  yet  sufficient  to  dis- 
colour our  judgments;  or  from  that  last  excess  of  sorrow, 
when  resignation  and  hope  are  both  extinct.  Considering  it 
iu  this  light,  I know  few  things  more  fitted  to  qualify  the 
optimism  we  so  often  hear  than  the  fact  that  statistics  show 
it  to  be  rapidly  increasing,  and  to  be  peculiarly  characteristic 
of  those  nations  which  rank  most  high  in  intellectual  de- 
velopment and  in  general  civilisation. 1 In  one  or  two  countries, 
strong  religious  feeling  has  counteracted  the  tendency ; but 
the  comparison  of  town  and  country,  of  different  countries,  of 
different  provinces  of  the  same  country,  and  of  different  periods 
in  history,  proves  conclusively  its  reality.  Many  reasons  may 
be  alleged  to  explain  it.  Mental  occupations  are  peculiarly 
fitted  to  produce  insanity,2  and  the  blaze  of  publicity,  which 
in  modern  time  encircles  an  act  of  suicide,  to  draw  weak 
minds  to  its  imitation.  If  we  put  the  condition  of  absolutely 
savage  life,  out  of  our  calculation,  it  is  probable  that  a highly 
developed  civilisation,  while  it  raises  the  average  of  well-being, 
is  accompanied  by  more  extreme  misery  and  acute  sufferings 


1 This  fact  has  been  often  no-  ages,  there  is,  as  in  the  case  with 

ticed.  The  reader  may  find  many  other  forms  of  organic  devolnp- 
statistics  on  the  subject  in  Lisle,  ment,  a correlative  degeneration 
Du  Suicide,  and  Winslow’s  Anatomy  going  on,  and  that  an  increase  of 
of  Suicide.  insanity  is  a penalty  which  an 

2 ‘There  seems  good  reason  to  increase  of  our  present  civilisation 
believe,  that  with  the  progress  of  necessarily  pays.’  — MaudsleyV 
mental  development  through  the  Physiology  oj  Mind , p.  201. 


FROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE. 


61 


than  the  simpler  stages  that  had  preceded  it.  Nomadic 
fiabits,  the  vast  agglomeration  of  men  in  cities,  the  pressure 
of  a fierce  competition,  and  the  sudden  fluctuations  to  which 
manufactures  are  peculiarly  liable,  are  the  conditions  of  great 
prosperity,  but  also  the  causes  of  the  most  profound  misery. 
Civilisation  makes  many  of  what  once  were  superfluities, 
necessaries  of  life,  so  that  their  loss  inflicts  a pang  long  after 
their  possession  had  ceased  to  be  a pleasure.  It  also,  by 
softening  the  character,  lenders  it  peculiarly  sensitive  to  pain, 
and  it  brings  with  it  a long  train  of  antipathies,  passions, 
and  diseased  imaginations,  which  rarely  or  never  cross  the 
thoughts  or  torture  the  nerves  of  the  simple  peasant.  The 
advance  of  religious  scepticism,  and  the  relaxation  of  religious 
discipline,  have  weakened  and  sometimes  destroyed  the  horror 
of  suicide;  and  the  habits  of  self-assertion,  the  eager  and 
restless  ambitions  which  political  liberty,  intellectual  activity, 
and  manufacturing  enterprise,  all  in  them  different  ways 
conspire  to  foster,  while  they  are  the  very  principles  and 
conditions  of  the  progress  of  our  age,  render  the  virtue  of 
content  in  all  its  forms  extremely  rare,  and  are  peculiarly 
unpropitious  to  the  formation  of  that  spirit  of  humble  and 
submissive  resignation  which  alone  can  mitigate  the  agony  of 
hopeless  suffering. 

From  examining  the  effect  of  Christianity  in  promoting 
a sense  of  the  sanctity  of  human  life,  we  may  now  pass  to  an 
adjoining  field,  and  examine  its  influence  in  promoting  a fra- 
ternal and  philanthropic  sentiment  among  mankind.  And 
hist  of  all  we  may  notice  its  effects  upon  slavery. 

The  reader  will  remember  the  general  position  this  insti- 
tution occupied  in  the  eyes  of  the  Stoic  moralists,  and  under 
the  legislation  which  they  had  in  a great  measure  inspired. 
The  legitimacy  of  slavery  was  fully  recognised  ; but  Seneca 
and  other  moralists  had  asserted,  in  the  very  strongest  terms, 
the  natural  equality  of  mankind,  the  superficial  character  of 


C2 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


the  differences  between  the  slave  and  his  master,  and  the 
duty  of  the  most  scrupulous  humanity  to  the  former.  In- 
stances of  a very  warm  sympathy  between  master  and  slave 
were  of  frequent  occurrence ; but  they  may  unfortunately  ho 
paralleled  by  not  a few  examples  of  the  most  atrocious  cruelty. 
To  guard  against  such  cruelty,  a long  series  of  enactments, 
1 ased  avowedly  upon  the  Stoical  principle  of  the  essential 
equality  of  mankind,  had  been  made  under  Hadrian,  the 
Antonines,  and  Alexandei  Severus.  Not  to  recapitulate  at 
length  what  has  been  mentioned  in  a former  chapter,  it  is 
sufficient  to  remind  the  reader  that  the  right  of  life  and  death 
had  been  definitely  withdrawn  from  the  master,  and  that  the 
murder  of  a slave  was  stigmatised  and  punished  by  the  law. 
It  had,  however,  been  laid  down,  by  the  great  lawyer  Paul, 
that  homicide  implies  an  intention  to  kill,  and  that  therefore 
the  master  was  not  guilty  of  that  crime  if  his  slave  died 
under  chastisement  which  was  not  administered  with  this 
intention.  But  the  licence  of  punishment  which  tliis  decision 
might  give  was  checked  by  laws  which  forbade  excessive 
cruelty  to  slaves,  provided  that,  when  it  was  proved,  they 
should  be  sold  to  another  master,  suppressed  the  private 
prisons  in  which  they  had  been  immured,  and  appointed 
special  officers  to  receive  their  complaints. 

In  the  field  of  legislation,  for  about  two  hundred  years 
after  the  conversion  of  Constantine,  the  progress  was  ex- 
tremely slight.  The  Christian  emperors,  in  a.d.  319  and 
326,  adverted  in  two  elaborate  laws  to  the  subject  of  the 
murder  of  slaves,1  but,  beyond  reiterating  in  very  emphatic 
terms  the  previous  enactments,  it  is  not  easy  to  see  in  what 
way  they  improved  the  condition  of  the  class.2  They  pro- 

1 Cod.  Theod.  lib.  ix.  tit.  12.  murdering  the  slave  of  another  man, 

2 Some  commentators  imagine  while  in  the  Christian  law  it  was 
(see  Muratori,  Antich.  Ital.  iiiss.  defined  as  homicide,  equivalent  to 
xiv.)  that  among  the  Pagans  the  the  murder  of  a freeman.  I con- 
uiurder  of  a man’s  own  slave  was  fess,  however,  this  point  does  not 
only  assimilated  tc  the  crime  of  appear  to  me  at  all  clear. 


FROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE. 


G3 


vided  tLat  any  master  wlio  applied  to  his  slave  certain 
atrocious  tortures,  that  are  enumerated,  with  the  object  of 
killing  him,  should  be  deemed  a homicide,  hut  if  the  slave 
died  under  moderate  punishment,  or  under  any  punishment 
net  intended  to  kill  him,  the  master  should  be  blameless ; no 
charge  whatever,  it  was  emphatically  said,  should  be  brought 
against  him.  It  has  been  supposed,  though  I think  without 
evidence,  by  commentators  1 that  this  law  accorded  immunity 
to  tbe  master  only  when  the  slave  perished  under  the  appli- 
cation of  ‘ appropriate  ’ or  servile  punishments — that  is  to 
say,  scourging,  irons,  or  imprisonment ; but  the  use  of  torture 
not  intended  to  kill  was  in  no  degree  restricted,  nor  is  there 
anything  in  the  law  to  make  it  appear  either  that  the  master 
was  liable  to  punishment,  if  contrary  to  his  intention  his 
slave  succumbed  beneath  torture,  or  that  Constantine  pro- 
posed any  penalty  for  excessive  cruelty  which  did  not  result 
in  death.  It  is,  perhaps,  not  out  of  place  to  observe,  that  this 
law  was  in  remarkable  harmony  with  the  well-known  article 
of  the  Jewish  code,  which  provided  that  if  a slave,  wounded 
to  death  by  his  master,  linger  for  a day  or  two,  the  master 
should  not  be  punished,  for  the  slave  was  his  money.2 

The  two  features  that  were  most  revolting  in  the  slave 
system,  as  it  passed  from  the  Pagan  to  the  Christian  emperors, 
were  the  absolute  want  of  legal  recognition  of  slave  marriage, 
and  the  licence  of  torturing  still  conceded  to  the  master. 
The  Christian  emperors  before  Justinian  took  no  serious 
steps  to  remedy  either  of  these  evils,  and  the  measures  that 
were  taken  against  adultery  still  continued  inapplicable  to 
slave  unions,  because  ‘ the  vileness  of  their  condition  makes 
them  unworthy  of  the  observation  of  the  law.’3  The  aboli- 
tion of  the  punishment  of  crucifixion  had,  however,  a special 

1 SeeGodefroy’s  Commentary  on  Cod.  I'hcod.  lib.  is.  tit.  7.  See  on 

these  laws.  tlii?  law,  Wallon,  tome  iii.  pp.  417. 

2 Exodus  xxi.  21.  418. 

•‘Unas  vilitates  vitae  dignas  Dean  Milman  observes.  ‘ In  the 
legum  observations  non  eredidit.’ — old  Roman  society  in  tbe  Eastern 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


04 


value  to  the  slave  class,  and  a very  merciful  law  of  Constan* 
tine  forbade  the  separation  of  the  families  of  the  slaves.1 
Another  law,  which  in  its  effects  was  perhaps  still  more 
important,  imparted  a sacred  character  to  manumisti.m, 
ordaining  that  the  ceremony  should  be  celebrated  in  the 
Church,2  and  permitting  it  on  Sundays.  Some  measures 
were  also  taken,  providing  for  the  freedom  of  the  Christian 
slaves  of  Jewish  masters,  and,  in  two  or  three  cases,  freedom 
was  offered  as  a bribe  to  slaves,  to  induce  them  to  inform 
against  criminals.  Intermarriage  between  the  free  and  slave 
classes  was  still  strictly  forbidden,  and  if  a free  woman  had 
improper  intercourse  with  her  slave,  Constantine  ordered 
that  the  woman  should  be  executed  and  the  slave  burnt 
alive.3  By  the  Pagan  law,  the  woman  had  been  simply  re- 
duced to  slavery.  The  laws  against  fugitive  slaves  were  also 
rendered  more  severe.4 

This  legislation  may  on  the  whole  be  looked  upon  as  a 
progress,  but  it  certainly  does  not  deserve  the  enthusiasm 
which  ecclesiastical  writers  have  sometimes  bestowed  upon 
it.  For  about  two  hundred  years,  there  was  an  almost  ab- 
solute pause  in  the  legislation  on  this  subject.  Some  slight 
restrictions  were,  however,  imposed  upon  the  use  of  torture 
in  trials ; some  slight  additional  facilities  of  manumission 
were  given,  and  some  very  atrocious  enactments  made  to 
prevent  slaves  accusing  their  masters.  According  to  that  of 
Gratian,  any  slave  who  accused  his  master  of  any  offence, 


Empire  this  distinction  between  the  riage  of  the  slave  ; but  the  autho- 
marriage  of  the  freeman  and  the  rity  of  the  emperor  was  counter- 
concubinage of  the  slave  was  long  acted  by  the  deep-rooted  prejudices 
recognised  by  Christianity  itself,  of  centuries.’ — Hist,  of  Latin,  Chris- 
These  unions  were  not  blessed,  as  tianity,  vol.  ii.  p.  1 5. 
the  marriages  of  their  superiors  had  * Cod.  Theod.  lib.  ii.  tit.  25. 

noon  begun  to  be,  by  the  Church.  2 Ibid.  lib.  iv.  tit.  7. 

Basil  the  Macedonian  (a.d.  867-  3 Ibid.  lib.  ix.  tit.  9. 

R86)  first  enacted  that  the  priestly  4 Corpus  Juris,  vi.  1. 

benediction  should  hallow  the  mar- 


FROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE. 


65 


except  high  treason,  should  immediately  be  burnt  alive, 
without  any  investigation  of  the  justice  of  the  charged 

Under  Justinian,  however,  new  and  very  important  mea- 
sures were  taken.  In  no  other  sphere  were  the  laws  of  this 
emperor  so  indisputably  an  advance  upon  those  of  his  prede- 
cessors. His  measures  may  be  comprised  under  three  heads. 
In  the  first  place,  all  the  restrictions  upon  enfranchisement 
which  had  accumulated  under  the  Pagan  legislation  were 
abolished ; the  legislator  proclaimed  in  emphatic  language, 
and  by  the  provisions  of  many  laws,  his  desire  to  encourage 
manumission,  and  free  scope  was  thus  given  to  the  action 
of  the  Church.  In  the  second  place,  the  freedmen,  considered 
as  an  intermediate  class  between  the  slave  and  the  citizen, 
were  virtually  abolished,  all  or  nearly  all  the  privileges 
accorded  to  the  citizen  being  granted  to  the  emancipated 
slave.  This  was  the  most  important  contribution  of  the 
Christian  emperors  to  that  great  amalgamation  of  nations 
and  classes  which  had  been  advancing  since  the  days  of  Au- 
gustus ; and  one  of  its  effects  was,  that  any  person,  even  of 
senatorial  rank,  might  marry  a slave  when  he  had  first 
emancipated  her.  In  the  third  place,  a slave  was  permitted 
to  marry  a free  woman  with  the  authorisation  of  his  master, 
and  children  born  in  slavery  became  the  legal  heirs  of 
their  emancipated  father.  The  rape  of  a slave  woman  was 
also  in  this  reign  punished,  like  that  of  a free  woman,  by 
death.1 2 

But,  important  as  were  these  measures,  it  is  not  in  the 
field  of  legislation  that  we  must  chiefly  look  for  the  influence 
of  Christianity  upon  slavery.  This  influence  was  indeed  very 
great,  but  it  is  necessary  carefully  to  define  its  nature.  The 
prohibition  of  all  slavery,  which  was  one  of  the  peculiarities 
of  the  Jewish  Essenes,  and  the  illegitimacy  of  hereditary 


1 Cod.  Theod.  lib.  vi.  tit.  2.  Wallon,  tome  iii.  ; Champagr.y 

* See  on  all  this  legislation,  Chariti  chretienne,  pp.  214-224. 


06 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


slavery,  which  was  one  of  the  speculations  of  the  Stoic  Dion 
Chrysostom,  had  no  place  in  the  ecclesiastical  teaching. 
Slavery  was  distinctly  and  formally  recognised  by  Christ- 
ianity,1 and  no  religion  ever  laboured  more  to  encourage  a 
habit  of  docility  and  passive  obedience.  Much  was  indeed 
said  by  the  Fathers  about  the  natural  equality  of  mankind, 
about  the  duty  of  regarding  slaves  as  brothers  or  companions, 
and  about  the  heinousness  of  cruelty  to  them  ; but  all  this 
had  been  said  with  at  least  equal  force,  though  it  had  not  been 
disseminated  over  an  equally  wide  area,  by  Seneca  and  Epic- 
tetus, and  the  principle  of  the  original  freedom  of  all  men  was 
repeatedly  averred  by  the  Pagan  lawyers.  The  services  of 
Christianity  in  this  sphere  were  of  three  kinds.  It  supplied 
a new  order  of  relations,  in  which  the  distinction  of  classes 
was  unknown.  It  imparted  a moral  dignity  to  the  servile 
classes,  and  it  gave  an  unexampled  impetus  to  the  movement 
of  enfranchisement. 

The  first  of  these  services  was  effected  by  the  Church 
ceremonies  and  the  penitential  discipline.  In  these  spheres, 
from  which  the  Christian  mind  deiived  its  earliest,  its 
deepest,  and  its  most  enduring  impressions,  the  difference 
between  the  master  and  his  slave  was  unknown.  They  re- 
ceived the  sacred  elements  together,  they  sat  side  by  side  at 
the  agape,  they  mingled  in  the  public  prayers.  In  the  penal 
system  of  the  Church,  the  distinction  between  wrongs  done 
to  a freeman,  and  wrongs  done  to  a slave,  which  lay  at  the 
very  root  of  the  whole  civil  legislation,  was  repudiated.  At 
a time  when,  by  the  civil  law,  a master,  whose  slave  died  as 
a consequence  of  excessivo  scourging,  was  absolutely  un- 
punished, the  Council  of  Illiberis  excluded  that  master  for 


1 It  is  wort  hy  of  notice,  too,  that  of  Ham.  Seo  a numbor  of  passages 
the  justice  of  slavery  was  frequently  noticed  by  Moehler,  La  Christian- 
based  by  the  Fathers,  as  by  modern  isme  ct  V Eselavage  (trad,  franq.). 
defenders  of  slavery,  on  the  curse  pp.  151-152. 


FROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE. 


67 


ever  from  the  communion.1  The  chastity  of  female  slaves, 
for  the  protection  of  which  the  civil  law  made  but  little  pro- 
vision, was  sedulously  guarded  by  the  legislation  of  the  Church. 
Slave  birth,  moreover,  was  no  disqualification  for  entering 
into  the  priesthood;  and  an  emancipated  slave,  regarded  as 
the  dispenser  of  spiritual  life  and  death,  often  saw  tho 
greatest  and  the  most  wealthy  kneeling  humbly  at  his  feet 
imploring  his  absolution  or  his  benediction.2 

In  the  next  place,  Christianity  imparted  a moral  dignity 
to  the  servile  class.  It  did  this  not  only  by  associating 
poverty  and  labour  with  that  monastic  life  which  was  so  pro- 
foundly revered,  but  also  by  introducing  new  modifications 
into  the  ideal  type  of  morals.  There  is  no  fact  more  promi- 
nent in  the  Roman  writers  than  the  profound  contempt  with 
which  they  regarded  slaves,  not  so  much  on  account  of  their 
position,  as  on  account  of  the  character  which  that  position 
had  formed.  A servile  character  was  a synonym  for  a vicious 
one.  Cicero  had  declared  that  nothing  great  or  noble  could 
exist  in  a slave,  and  the  plays  of  Plautus  exhibit  the  same  esti- 
mate in  every  scene.  There  were,  it  is  true,  some  exceptions. 
Epictetus  had  not  only  been,  but  had  been  recognised  as  one  of 
the  noblest  characters  of  Rome.  The  fidelity  of  slaves  to 
their  masters  had  been  frequently  extolled,  and  Seneca  in 
this,  as  in  other  respects,  had  been  the  defender  of  the  op- 


The  penalty,  however,  appears 
to  have  been  reduced  to  two  years’ 
exclusion  from  communion.  Mura- 
tori  says  : ‘ In  piu  consili  si  truova 
decretato,  “ excommunicatione  vel 
poenitentias  hiennii  esse  subjicien- 
dum qui  servum  proprium  sine  con- 
scientia  judicis  occiderit.’” — An- 
tich.  Ital,  Hiss.  xiv. 

Besides  the  works  which  treat 
generally  of  the  penitential  disci- 
pline, the  reader  may  consult  with 


fruit  Wright’s  letter  On  the  Poli- 
tical Condition  of  the  English  Pea- 
santry, and  Moehler,  p.  186. 

2 On  the  great  multitude  of 
emancipated  slaves  who  entered,  and 
at  one  time  almost  monopolised,  tho 
ecclesiastical  offices,  compare  Moeh- 
ler, Le  Ckristianisme  ct  I'Esclavage, 
pp.  177-178.  Leo  the  Great  tried 
to  prevent  slaves  being  raised  to 
the  priestly  office,  because  it  would 
degrade  the  latter. 


G8  HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 

pressed.  Still  there  can  he  no  clonbt  that  this  contempt  was 
general,  and  also  that  in  the  Pagan  world  it  was  to  a groat 
extent  just.  Every  age  has  its  own  moral  ideal,  to  which  all 
virtuous  men  aspire.  Every  sphere  of  life  has  also  a te  id- 
ency  to  produce  a distinctive  type  being  specially  favourable 
to  some  particular  class  of  virtues,  and  specially  unfavourable 
to  others.  The  popular  estimate,  and  even  the  real  moral 
condition,  of  each  class  depends  chiefly  upon  the  degree  in 
which  the  type  of  character  its  position  naturally  develops, 
coincides  with  the  ideal  type  of  the  age.  Now,  if  we  remem- 
ber that  magnanimity,  self-reliance,  dignity,  independence, 
and,  in  a word,  elevation  of  character,  constituted  the  Homan 
ideal  of  perfection,  it  will  appear  evident  that  this  was  pre- 
eminently the  type  of  freemen,  and  that  the  condition  of 
slavery  was  in  the  very  highest  degree  unfavourable  to  its 
development.  Christianity  for  the  first  time  gave  the  servile 
virtues  the  foremost  place  in  the  moral  type.  Humility, 
obedience,  gentleness,  patience,  resignation,  are  all  cardinal 
or  rudimentary  virtues  in  the  Christian  character ; they  were 
all  neglected  or  underrated  by  the  Pagans;  they  can  all  ex- 
pand and  flourish  in  a servile  position. 

The  influence  of  Christianity  upon  slavery,  by  inclining  the 
moral  type  to  the  servile  classes,  though  less  obvious  and  less 
discussed  than  some  other’s,  is,  I believe,  in  the  very  highest  de- 
gree important.  There  is,  probably,  scarcely  any  other  single 
circumstance  that  exercises  so  profound  an  influence  upon 
the  social  and  political  relations  of  a religion,  as  the  class 
type  with  which  it  can  most  readily  assimilate ; or,  in  other 
words,  the  group  or  variety  of  virtues  to  which  it  gives  the 
foremost  place.  The  virtues  that  are  most  suited  to  the 
servile  position  were  in  general  so  little  honoured  by  anti- 
quity that  they  were  not  even  cultivated  in  their  appropriate 
sphere.  The  aspirations  of  good  men  were  in  a different 
direction.  The  virtue  of  the  Stoic,  which  rose  triumphantly 
under  adversity,  nearly  always  withered  under  degradation. 


FROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE. 


GO 


For  the  first  time,  under  the  influence  of  Christianity,  a great 
moral  movement  passed  through  the  servile  class.  The  mul- 
titude of  slaves  who  embraced  the  new  faith  was  one  of  the 
reproaches  of  the  Pagans;  and  the  names  of  Blandina,  Pota- 
mhena,  Eutvches,  Victorious,  and  Nereus,  show  how  fully 
they  shaved  in  the  sufferings  and  in  the  glory  of  martyr- 
dom.1 The  first  and  grandest  edifice  of  Byzantine  architec- 
ture in  Italy — the  noble  church  of  St.  Vital,  at  Kaverina— 
vas  dedicated  by  Justinian  to  the  memory  of  a martyred 
slave. 

While  Christianity  thus  broke  down  the  contempt  with 
which  the  master  had  regarded  his  slaves,  and  planted  among 
the  latter  a principle  of  moral  regeneration  which  expanded 
in  no  other  sphere  with  an  equal  perfection,  its  action  in 
procuring  the  freedom  of  the  slave  was  unceasing.  The  la  w 
of  Constantine,  which  placed  the  ceremony  under  the  superin- 
tendence of  the  clergy,  and  the  many  laws  that  gave  special 
facilities  of  manumission  to  those  who  desired  to  enter 
the  monasteries  or  the  priesthood,  symbolised  the  religious 
character  the  act  had  assumed.  It  was  celebrated  on  Church 
festivals,  especially  at  Easter ; and,  although  it  was  not  pro- 
claimed a matter  of  duty  or  necessity,  it  was  always  regarded 
as  one  of  the  most  acceptable  modes  of  expiating  past  sins. 
St.  Melania  was  said  to  have  emancipated  8,000  slaves ; St. 
Ovidius,  a rich  martyr  of  Gaul,  5,000 ; Chromatius,  a Homan 
prefect  under  Diocletian,  1,400 ; Hermes,  a prefect  in  the 
reign  of  Trajan,  1,250.2  Pope  St.  Gregory,  many  of  the 
clergy  at  Hippo  under  the  rule  of  St.  Augustine,  as  well 
as  great  numbers  of  private  individuals,  freed  their  slaves  as 
an  act  of  piety.3  It  became  customary  to  do  so  on  occasions 

1 See  a most  admirable  disserta-  p.210.  These  numbers  are,  no  doubt, 
tion  on  this  subject  in  Le  Blant,  exaggerated ; see  Walion,  Hist,  de 
Inscriptions  chretienn.es  de  la  Gaule,  I'Esclavage,  tome  iii.  p.  38. 

tome  ii.  pp.  284-299  ; Gibbon’s  3 See  Schmidt,  La  Societe  civil 4 
Decline  and  Fall , ch.  xxxviii.  dans  le  Monde  remain,  pp.  246- 

2 Cha.mipn,gny, Charitcchreticnne,  248. 

37 


70 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


of  national  or  personal  thanksgiving,  on  recovery  from  sick- 
ness, on  the  birth  of  a child,  at  the  hour  of  death,  and,  above 
all,  in  testamentary  bequests.1  Numerous  charters  and  epi- 
taphs still  record  the  gift  of  liberty  to  slaves  throughout  the 
middle  ages,  ‘ for  the  benefit  of  the  soul  ’ of  the  donor  or 
testator.  In  the  thirteenth  century,  when  there  were  m 
slaves  to  emancipate  in  France,  it  was  usual  in  many  churches 
to  release  caged  pigeons  on  the  ecclesiastical  festivals,  in 
memory  of  the  ancient  charity,  and  that  prisoners  might  still 
be  freed  in  the  name  of  Christ.2 

Slavery,  however,  lasted  in  Europe  for  about  800  years 
after  Constantine,  and  during  the  period  with  which  alone 
this  volume  is  concerned,  although  its  character  was  changed 
and  mitigated,  the  number  of  men  who  were  subject  to  it 
was  probably  greater  than  in  the  Pagan  Empire.  In  the 
West  the  barbarian  conquests  modified  the  conditions  of 
labour  in  two  directions.  The  cessation  of  the  stream  of  bar- 
barian captives,  the  impoverishment  of  great  families,  who 
had  been  surrounded  by  vast  retinues  of  slaves,  the  general 
diminution  of  town  life,  and  the  barbarian  habits  of  per- 
sonal independence,  checked  the  old  form  of  slavery,  while 
the  misery  and  the  precarious  condition  of  the  free  peasants 
induced  them  in  great  numbers  to  barter  their  liberty  for 
protection  by  the  neighbouring  lord.3  In  the  East,  the  de- 


1 Muratoridias  devoted  two  va- 
luable dissertations  ( Ant-ich . Ital. 
xiv.  xv.)  to  mediaeval  slavery. 

2 Ozanam’s  Hist,  of  Civilisation 
in  Che  Fifth  Century  (Eng.  trails.), 
vol.  ii.  p.  43.  St.  Adelbert,  Arch- 
bishop of  Prague  at  the  end  of  the 
tenth  century,  was  especially  famous 
for  his  opposition  to  the  slave  trade. 
In  Sweden,  tho  abolition  of  slavery 
in  the  thirteenth  century  was  avow- 
edly accomplished  in  obedience  tc 
Christian  principles.  (Moehler,  Lt 

Christianisme  ct  I'Esclavayc , pp. 


194-196;  Ryan’s  History  of  the 
Effects  of  Religion  upon  Mankind , 
pp.  142.  143.) 

3 Salvian.  in  a famous  passage 
( De  Gubcrnatione  Dei , lib.  v.),  no- 
tices the  multitudes  of  poor  who 
voluntarily  became  ‘ colon i’  for  the 
sake  of  protection  and  a livelihood. 
The  coloni,  who  were  attached  to 
the  soil,  were  much  the  same  as  the 
mediaeval  serfs.  We  have  already 
noticed  them  coming  into  being,  ap- 
parently when  the  Roman  empcrorn 
settled  barbarian  prisoners  to  col- 


FROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE. 


71 


strnction  of  great  fortunes  through  excessive  taxation  dimi- 
nished the  number  of  superfluous  slaves ; and  the  fiscal  system 
of  the  Byzantine  Empire,  by  which  agricultural  slaves  were 
taxed  according  to  their  employments,1  as  well  as  the  desiro 
of  emperors  to  encourage  agriculture,  led  the  legislators  to 
attach  the  slaves  permanently  to  the  soil.  In  the  course  of 
time,  almost  the  entire  free  peasantry,  and  the  greater  num- 
ber of  the  old  slaves,  had  sunk  or  risen  into  the  qualified 
slavery  called  serfdom,  which  formed  the  basis  of  the  great 
edifice  of  feudalism.  Towards  the  end  of  the  eighth  century, 
the  sale  of  slaves  beyond  their  native  provinces  was  in  most 
countries  prohibited.2  The  creation  of  the  free  cities  of  Italy, 
the  custom  of  emancipating  slaves  ■who  were  enrolled  in  the 
army,  and  economical  changes  which  made  free  labour  more 
profitable  than  slave  labour,  conspired  with  religious  motives 
in  effecting  the  ultimate  freedom  of  labour.  The  practice  of 
manumitting,  as  an  act  of  devotion,  continued  to  the  end ; 
but  the  ecclesiastics,  probably  through  the  feeling  that  they 
had  no  right  to  alienate  corporate  property,  in  which  they  had 
only  a life  interest,  were  among  the  last  to  follow  the  coun- 
sels they  so  liberally  bestowed  upon  the  laity.3  In  the  twelfth 
century,  however,  slaves  in  Europe  were  very  rare.  In  the 
fourteenth  century,  slavery  was  almost  unknown.4 


tivate  the  desert  lands  of  Italy; 
and  before  tile  barbarian  invasions 
their  numbers  seem  to  have  much 
increased.  M.  Guizot  has  devoted 
two  chapters  to  this  subject.  (Hist, 
de  la  Civilisation  en  France,  vii. 
viii.) 

1 See  Finlay’s  Hist,  of  Greece, 
vol.  i.  p.  241. 

2 Moehler,  p.  181. 

3 ‘Non  v’era  anticamente signor 
seoolare,  vescovo,  abbate,  capitolo 
di  caconici  e monistero  che  non 
avesse  al  suo  servigio  molti  servi. 
Molto  frequentomente  solevano  i 
secoiari  manometterli.  Non  cosi 


le  chiese,  e i monisteri,  non  per 
altra  cagione,  a mio  credere,  so  non 
perche  la  manumissionee  una  spezie 
di  alienazione,  ed  eradai  canonipro- 
ibito  1’  alienare  l beni  delle  chiese.’ 
— Muratori,  Dissert,  xv.  Some 
Councils,  however,  recognised  the 
right  of  bishops  to  emancipate 
Church  slaves.  Moehler,  Le  Chris- 
tianisme  et  TEsclavage,  p.  187. 
Many  peasants  placed  themselves 
under  the  dominion  of  the  monks, 
as  being  the  best  masters,  and  also 
to  obtain  the  benefitof  theirprayers. 

4  Muratori ; Hallam’s  Middle 
Ages,  ch,  ii.  part  ii. 


72 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


Closely  connected  with  the  influence  of  the  Church  in  do 
stroying  hereditary  slavery,  was  its  influence  in  redeeming 
captives  from  servitude.  In  no  other  form  of  charity  was  its 
beneficial  character  more  continually  and  more  splendidly 
displayed.  During  the  long  and  dreary  trials  of  the  barbarian 
invasions,  when  the  whole  structure  of  society  was  dislo- 
cated, when  vast  districts  and  mighty  cities  were  in  a few 
months  almost  depopulated,  and  when  the  flower  of  the  youth 
of  Italy  were  mown  down  by  the  sword,  or  carried  away 
into  captivity,  the  bishops  never  desisted  from  their  efforts  to 
alleviate  the  sufferings  of  the  prisoners.  St.  Ambrose,  disre- 
garding the  outcries  of  the  Allans,  who  denounced  his  act  as 
atrocious  sacrilege,  sold  the  rich  church  ornaments  of  Milan 
to  rescue  some  captives  who  had  fallen  into  the  hands  of  the 
Goths,  and  this  practice — which  was  afterwards  formally 
sanctioned  by  St.  Gregory  the  Great — became  speedily  general. 
When  the  Roman  army  had  captured,  but  refused  to  support, 
seven  thousand  Persian  prisoners,  Acacius,  Bishop  of  Amida, 
undeterred  by  the  bitter  hostility  of  the  Persians  to  Christi- 
anity, and  declaring  that  ‘ God  had  no  need  of  plates  or 
dishes,’  sold  all  the  rich  church  ornaments  of  his  diocese, 
rescued  the  unbelieving  prisoners,  and  sent  them  back  un- 
harmed to  their  king.  During  the  horrors  of  the  Vandal 
invasion,  Deogratias,  Bishop  of  Carthage,  took  a similar  step 
to  ransom  the  Roman  prisoners.  St.  Augustine,  St.  Gregory 
the  Great,  St.  Caesarius  of  Arles,  St.  Exuperius  of  Toulouse, 
St.  Hilary,  St.  Remi,  all  melted  down  or  sold  their  church 
vases  to  free  prisoners.  St.  Cyprian  sent  a large  sum  for  the 
same  purpose  to  the  Bishop  of  Nicomedia.  St.  Epiphanius 
and  St.  Avitus,  in  conjunction  with  a rich  Gaulish  lady 
named  Syagria,  are  said  to  have  rescued  thousands.  St. 
Eligius  devoted  to  this  object  his  entire  fortune.  St.  Paul  in  u a 
of  Nola  displayed  a similar  generosity,  and  the  legends  even 
assert,  though  untruly,  that  he,  like  St.  Peter  Teleonarius 
and  St.  Serapion,  having  exhausted  all  other  forms  of  charity, 


FROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CIIARLEMAGNE. 


73 


m a last  gift  sold  himself  to  slavery.  When,  long  after- 
wards, the  Mohammedan  conquests  in  a measui’e  reproduced 
the  calamities  of  the  barbarian  invasions,  the  same  unwearied 
charity  was  displayed.  The  Trinitarian  monks,  founded  by  John 
of  Matha  in  the  twelfth  century,  were  devoted  to  the  release 
of  Christian  captives,  and  another  society  was  founded  with 
the  same  object  by  Peter  Nolasco,  in  the  following  century. 1 

The  different  branches  of  the  subject  I am  examining  are 
so  closely  intertwined  that  it  is  difficult  to  investigate  one 
without  in  a measure  anticipating  the  others.  While  dis- 
cussing the  influence  of  the  Church  in  protecting  infancy,  in 
raising  the  estimate  of  human  life,  and  in  alleviating  slavery, 
I have  trenched  largely  upon  the  last  application  of  the 
doctrine  of  Christian  fraternity  I must  examine — I mean  tho 
foundation  of  charity.  The  difference  between  Pagan  and 
Christian  societies  in  this  matter  is  very  profound ; but  a 
great  part  of  it  must  be  ascribed  to  causes  other  than 
religious  opinions.  Charity  finds  an  extended  scope  for 
action  only,  where  there  exists  a large  class  of  men  at  once 
independent  and  impoverished.  In  the  ancient  societies, 
slavery  in  a great  measure  replaced  pauperism,  and,  by 
securing  the  subsistence  of  a very  large  proportion  of  the 
poor,  contracted  the  sphere  of  charity.  And  what  slavery 
did  at  Rome  for  the  vei’y  poor,  the  system  of  clientage  did 
for  those  of  a somewhat  higher  rank.  The  existence  of  these 
two  institutions  is  sufficient  to  show  the  injustice  of  judging 
the  two  societies  by  a mere  comparison  of  their  charitable 
institutions,  and  we  must  also  remember  that  among  the 
ancients  the  relief  of  the  indigent  was  one  of  the  most  iiu- 
portant  functions  of  the  State.  Not  to  dwell  upon  the  many 
measures  taken  with  this  object  in  ancient  Greece,  in  con- 
sidering the  condition  of  the  Roman  poor  we  are  at  once  met 

1 Soe  on  this  subject,  Ryan,  pp.  and  especially  Le  Blant,  Inscrip- 
151-152;  Cibrario,  Economica  po-  tions  chretiennes  de  la  Gaule,  tome 
Utica  del  Medio  Evo,  lib.  iii.  cap.  ii.,  ii.  pp.  284-299. 


74 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


by  the  simple  fact  that  for  several  centuries  the  immense 
majority  of  these  were  habitually  supported  by  gratuitous 
distributions  of  corn.  In  a very  early  period  of  Roman 
history  we  find  occasional  instances  of  distribution ; but  it 
was  not  till  a.u.c.  630  that  Caius  Gracchus  caused  a law  to 
be  made,  supplying  the  poorer  classes  with  corn  at  a price 
that  was  little  more  than  nominal ; and  although,  two  years 
after,  the  nobles  succeeded  in  revoking  this  law,  it  was  after 
several  fluctuations  finally  re-enacted  in  A.u.c.  679.  The 
Cassia-Terentia  law,  as  it  was  called  from  the  consuls  under 
whom  it  was  at  last  established,  was  largely  extended  in  its 
operation,  or,  as  some  think,  revived  from  neglect  in  a.u.c. 
691,  by  Cato  of  Utica,  who  desired  by  this  means  to  divert 
popularity  from  the  cause  of  Caesar,  under  whom  multitudes 
of  the  poor  were  enrolling  themselves.  Four  years  later, 
Cloclius  Pulcher,  abolishing  the  small  payment  which  had 
been  demanded,  made  the  distribution  entirely  gratuitous. 
It  took  place  once  a month,  and  consisted  of  five  moclii1  a 
head.  In  the  time  of  Julius  Caesar  no  less  than  320,000 
persons  were  inscribed  as  recipients ; but  Caesar  reduced  the 
number  by  one  half.  Under  Augustus  it  had  risen  to 
200,000.  This  emperor  desired  to  restrict  the  distribution 
of  corn  to  three  or  four  times  a year,  but,  yielding  to  the 
popular  wish,  he  at  last  consented  that  it  should  continue 
monthly.  It  soon  became  the  leading  fact  of  Roman  life. 
Numerous  officers  were  appointed  to  provide  it.  A severe 
legislation  controlled  their  acts,  and  to  secure  a regular  and 
abundant  supply  of  corn  for  the  capital  became  the  principal 
object  of  the  provincial  governors.  Under  the  Antonines  the 
number  of  the  recipients  had  considerably  increased,  having 
sometimes,  it  is  said,  exceeded  500,000.  Septimus  Severn s 
added  to  the  corn  a ration  of  oil.  Aurelian  replaced  the 


1 About  |ths  of  a bushel.  See  Hume’s  Essay  on  the  PopulousiKtu 
of  Ancient  Nations. 


FROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE. 


75 


mor-thly  distribution  of  unground  corn  by  a daily  distribution 
of  bread,  and  added,  moreover,  a portion  of  pork.  Gratuitous 
distributions  were  afterwards  extended  to  Constantinople, 
Alexandria,  and  Antioch,  and  were  probably  not  altogether 
unknown  in  smaller  towns.1 

We  have  already  seen  that  this  gratuitous  distribution  of 
corn  ranked,  with  the  institution  of  slavery  and  the  gladia- 
torial exlubitions,  as  one  of  the  chief  demoralising  influences 
of  tho  Empire.  The  most  injudicious  charity,  however  per- 
nicious to  the  classes  it  is  intended  to  relieve,  has  commonly 
a beneficial  and  softening  influence  upon  the  donor,  and 
through  him  upon  society  at  large.  But  the  Bom  an  distri- 
bution of  corn,  being  merely  a political  device,  had  no 
humanising  influence  upon  the  people,  while,  being  regulated 
only  by  the  indigence,  and  not  at  all  by  the  infirmities  or 
character,  of  the  recipient,  it  was  a direct  and  overwhelming 
encouragement  to  idleness.  With  a provision  of  the  neces- 
saries of  life,  and  with  an  abundant  supply  of  amusements,  the 
poor  Homans  readily  gave  up  honourable  labour,  all  trades 
in  the  city  languished,  every  interruption  in  the  distribution 
of  corn  was  followed  by  fearful  sufferings,  free  gifts  of  land 
were  often  insufficient  to  attract  the  citizens  to  honest  labour, 
and  the  multiplication  of  children,  which  rendered  the  public 
relief  inadequate,  was  checked  by  abortion,  exposition,  or 
infanticide. 

When  we  remember  that  the  population  of  Home 
probably  never  exceeded  a million  and  a half,  that  a large 
proportion  of  the  indigent  were  provided  for  as  slaves,  and 
that  more  than  200,000  freemen  were  habitually  supplied 

1 Tho  history  of  these  distribu-  debted.  See,  too,  Monnier,  Hist. 
lions  is  traced  with  admirable  learn-  de  l’  Assistance  publique ; B.  Dumas, 
sag  by  M.  Naudet  in  his  Memoire  Dcs  Secours publics chez  lesAnciens ; 
tur  les  Secours  publics  dans  V Anti-  and  Schmidt,  Essai  sur  la  Societe 
quite  (Mem.  de  TAcademie  des  In-  civile  dans  le  Monde  romain  et  sur 
scrip,  et  Belles-lettres,  tomo  xiii.),  sa  Transformation  par  le  Christian- 
an  essay  to  which  I am  much  in-  isme. 


76  HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 

with  the  first  necessary  of  life,  we  cannot,  I think,  charge 
the  Pagan  society  of  the  metropolis,  at  least,  with  an  excessive 
parsimony  in  relieving  poverty.  But  besides  the  distribution 
of  corn,  several  other  measures  were  taken.  Salt,  which 
was  very  largely  used  by  the  Roman  poor,  had  during  the 
Republic  been  made  a monopoly  of  the  State,  and  was  sold 
by  it  at  a price  that  was  little  more  than  nominal.1  The  dis- 
tribution of  land,  which  was  the  subject  of  the  agrarian  laws, 
was,  under  a new  form,  practised  by  Julius  Caesar,2  Nerva,5 
and  Septimus  Severus,4  who  bought  land  to  divide  it  among 
the  poor  citizens.  Large  legacies  were  left  to  the  people  by 
Julius  Caesar,  Augustus,  and  others,  and  considerable,  though 
irregular,  donations  made  on  occasions  of  great  rejoicings. 
Numerous  public  baths  were  established,  to  which,  when 
they  were  not  absolutely  gratuitous,  the  smallest  coin  in  use 
gave  admission,  and  which  were  in  consequence  habitually 
employed  by  the  poor  Vespasian  instituted,  and  the  Anto- 
nines  extended,  a system  of  popular  education,  and  the  move- 
ment I have  already  noticed,  for  the  support  of  the  children 
of  poor  parents,  acquired  very  considerable  proportions.  The 
first  trace  of  it  at  Romev  may  be  found  under  Augustus,  who 
gave  money  and  corn  for  the  support  of  young  children,  who 
had  previously  not  been  included  in  the  public  distributions.5 
This  appears,  however,  to  have  been  but  an  act  of  isolated 
benevolence,  and  the  honour  of  first  instituting  a systematic 
effort  in  this  direction  belongs  to  Nerva,  who  enjoined  the 
support  of  poor  children,  not  only  in  Rome,  but  in  all  the 
cities  of  Italy.6  Trajan  greatly  extended  the  system.  In 

1 Livy,  ii.  9 ; Pliny,  Hist.  Nat.  puellas  puerosque  natos  parentibus 

xxxi.  41.  egostosis  sumptu  publico  per  Italiae 

2 Dion  Cassius,  xxxviii.  1-7.  oppida  ali  jussit.’ — Sext.  Aurelius 

3 Xiphilin,  lxviii.  2 ; Pliny,  Ep.  Victor,  Epitome , ‘Nerva.’  This 

vii  31.  measure  of  Nerva,  though  not  men- 

4 Spartian.  Sept.  Severus.  tioned  by  any  other  writer,  is  con- 

5 Suet.  August.  41  ; Dion  Cas-  firmed  by  the  evidence  of  medals, 

sics,  li.  21.  (Naudet,  p.  75.) 

‘Afflictos  civitatis  relevavit, 


FROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE. 


77 


bi3  reign  5,000  poor  children  were  supported  by  the  Govern- 
ment in  Home  alone,1  and  similar  measures,  though  we  know 
not  on  what  scale,  were  taken  in  the  other  Italian  and  even 
African  cities.  At  the  little  town  of  Velleia,  we  find  a 
charity  instituted  by  Trajan,  for  the  partial  support  of  270 
children.2  Private  benevolence  followed  in  the  same  direc- 
tion, and  several  inscriptions  which  still  remain,  though  they 
du  not  enable  us  to  'write  its  history,  sufficiently  attest  its 
activity.  The  younger  Pliny,  besides  warmly  encouraging 
schools,  devoted  a small  property  to  the  support  of  poor 
children  in  his  native  city  of  Como.3  The  name  of  Caelia 
Macrina  is  preserved  as  the  foundress  of  a charity  for  100 
children  at  Terracina.4  Hadrian  increased  the  supplies  of 
corn  allotted  to  these  charities,  and  lie  was  also  distinguished 
for  his  bounty  to  poor  women.5  Antoninus  was  accustomed 
to  lend  money  to  the  poor  at  four  per  cent.,  which  was  much 
below  the  normal  rate  of  interest,6  and  both  he  and  Marcus 
Aurelius  dedicated  to  the  memory  of  their  wives  institutions 
for  the  support  of  girls.7  Alexander  Severus  in  like  manner 
dedicated  an  institution  for  the  support  of  children  to  the 
memory  of  his  mother.8  Public  hospitals  were  probably 
unknown  in  Europe  before  Christianity ; but  there  are  traces 
of  the  distribution  of  medicine  to  the  sick  poor ; 9 there  were 
private  infirmaries  for  slaves,  and  also,  it  is  believed,  military 
hospitals.10  Provincial  towns  were  occasionally  assisted  by 


1 Min.  Penegyr.  xxvi.  xxviii. 

2 We  know  of  this  charity 
from  an  extant  bronze  tablet.  See 
Schmidt,  Essai  histo  ique  sur  la 
Societe  romaine,  p.  428. 

8 Plin.  Ep.  i.  8 ; iv.  13. 

1 Schmidt,  p.  428. 

5 Spartianns,  Hadrian. 

6 (Japitolinus,  Antoninus. 

7 Capitolinus,  Anton.,  Marc. 
Aurel. 

8 Lampridius,  A.  Severus. 

9 See  Friedlaender,  Hist,  des 


Mtxurs  romaines,  iii.  p.  157. 

i0  Seneca  (Z>e  Zm, lib.  i.  cap.  1G) 
speaks  of  institutions  called  vale- 
tudinaria,  which  most  writers  think 
were  private  infirmaries  in  rich 
men’s  houses.  The  opinion  that 
the  Romans  had  public  hospitals 
is  maintained  in  a very  learned 
and  valuable,  but  little-known 
work,  called  Collections^  relative  to 
the  Systematic  Relief  of  the  Poor. 
(London,  1815.) 


78 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


the  Government  in  seasons  of  great  distress,  and  there  arc 
some  recorded  instances  of  private  legacies  for  their  benefit.1 

These  various  measures  are  by  no  means  inconsiderable, 
and  it  is  net  unreasonable  to  suppose  that  many  similar  steps 
were  taken,  of  which  all  record  has  been  lost.  The  history 
cf  charity  presents  so  few  salient  features,  so  little  that  can 
strike  the  imagination  or  arrest  the  attention,  that  it  is 
usually  almost  wholly  neglected  by  historians  ; and  it  is 
easy  to  conceive  what  inadequate  notions  of  our  existing 
charities  could  be  gleaned  from  the  casual  allusions  in  plays 
or  poems,  in  political  histories  or  court  memoirs.  There  can, 
however,  be  no  question  that  neither  in  practice  nor  in 
theory,  neither  in  the  institutions  that  were  founded  nor  in 
the  place  that  was  assigned  to  it  in  the  scale  of  duties,  did 
charity  in  antiquity  occupy  a position  at  all  comparable  to 
that  which  it  has  obtained  by  Christianity.  Nearly  all 
relief  was  a State  measure,  dictated  much  more  by  policy 
than  by  benevolence;  and  the  habit  of  selling  young  children, 
the  innumerable  expositions,  the  readiness  of  the  poor  to 
enrol  themselves  as  gladiators,  and  the  frequent  famines, 
show  how  large  was  the  measure  of  unrelieved  distress.  A 
very  few  Pagan  examples  of  charity  have,  indeed,  descended 
to  us.  Among  the  Greeks  we  find  Epaminondas  ransoming 
captives,  and  collecting  dowers  for  poor  girls ; 2 Cimon, 
feeding  the  hungry  and  clothing  the  naked ; 3 Bias,  purchasing, 
emancipating,  and  furnishing  with  dowers  some  captive  girls 
of  Messina.4  Tacitus  has  described  with  enthusiasm  how, 
after  a catastrophe  near  Rome,  the  rich  threw  open  their 
houses  and  taxed  all  their  resources  to  relieve  the  sufferers.® 
There  existed,  too,  among  the  poor,  both  of  Greece  and 
Borne,  mutual  insurance  societies,  which  undertook  to  pjo- 


1 See  Tacit.  Annul,  xii.  58  ; 3 Plutarch,  Cimon. 

Pliny,  v.  7 ; x.  79.  1 Piog.  Laert.  Bias. 

2 Cornelius  Nepos,  Kpaminon - 5 Tac.  Annul,  iv.  63. 

das,  cap.  iii. 


FROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE.  79 

vide  for  their  sick  and  infirm  members.1  The  very  frequent 
reference  to  mendicancy  in  the  Latin  writers  shows  that 
beggars,  and  therefore  those  who  relieved  beggars,  were 
numerous.  The  duty  of  hospitality  was  also  strongly  en- 
joined, and  was  placed  under  the  special  protection  of  the 
supreme  Deity.  But  the  active,  habitual,  and  detailed 
charity  of  private  persons,  which  is  so  conspicuous  a feature 
in  all  Christian  societies,  was  scarcely  known  in  antiquity, 
and  there  are  not  more  than  two  or  three  moralists  who 
have  even  noticed  it.  Of  these,  the  chief  rank  belongs  to 
Cicero,  who  devoted  two  very  judicious  but  somewhat  cold 
chapters  to  the  subject.  Nothing,  he  said,  is  more  suitable 
to  the  nature  of  man  than  beneficence  or  liberality,  but  there 
are  many  cautions  to  be  urged  in  practising  it.  We  must 
take  care  that  our  bounty  is  a real  blessing  to  the  person  wo 
relieve ; that  it  does  not  exceed  our  own  means ; that  it  is 
not,  as  was  the  case  with  Sylla  and  Caesar,  derived  from  the 
spoliation  of  others  ; that  it  springs  from  the  heart  and  not 
from  ostentation ; that  the  claims  of  gratitude  are  preferred 
to  the  mere  impulses  of  compassion,  and  that  due  regard  is 
paid  both  to  the  character  and  to  the  wants  of  the  recipient.2 

Christianity  for  the  first  time  made  charity  a rudimentary 
virtue,  giving  it  a leading  place  in  the  moral  type,  and  in  the 
exhortations  of  its  teachers.  Besides  its  general  influence  in 
stimulating  the  affections,  it  effected  a complete  revolution 
in  this  sphere,  by  regarding  the  poor  as  the  special  repre- 
sentatives of  the  Christian  Founder,  and  thus  making  the 
love  of  Christ,  rather  than  the  love  of  man,  the  principle  of 
charity.  Even  in  the  days  of  persecution,  collections  for  the 
relief  of  the  poor  were  made  at  the  Sunday  meetings. 
The  agapse  or  feasts  of  love  were  intended  mainly  for  the 
poor,  and  food  that  was  saved  by  the  fasts  was  devoted  to 
their  benefit.  A vast  organisation  of  charity,  presided  over 


1 See  Pliny,  Ep.  x.  94,  and  the  remarks  of  Naudet,  pp.  38,  39. 

8 De  Offic.  i.  14,  15. 


80 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


by  the  bishops,  and  actively  directed  by  the  deacons,  soon 
ramified  over  Christendom,  till  the  bond  of  charity  became 
the  bond  of  unity,  and  the  most  distant  sections  of  the 
Christian  Church  corresponded  by  the  interchange  of  mercy, 
Long  before  the  era  of  Constantine,  it  was  observed  that  the 
charities  of  the  Christians  were  so  extensive — it  may.  per 
haps,  be  said  so  excessive— that  they  drew  very  many 
impostors  to  the  Church and  when  the  victory  of  Chris- 
tianity was  achieved,  the  enthusiasm  for  charity  displayed 
itself  in  the  erection  of  numerous  institutions  that  were  alto- 
gether unknown  to  the  Pagan  world.  A Roman  lady, 
named  Fabiola,  in  the  fourth  century,  founded  at  Rome,  as 
an  act  of  penance,  the  first  public  hospital,  and  the  charity 
planted  by  that  woman’s  hand  overspread  the  world,  and 
will  alleviate,  to  the  end  of  time,  the  darkest  anguish  of 
humanity.  Another  hospital  was  soon  after  founded  by  St. 
Pammachus ; another  of  great  celebrity  by  St.  Basil,  at 
Caesarea.  St.  Basil  also  erected  at  Caesarea  what  was  probably 
the  first  asylum  for  lepers.  Xenodochia,  or  refuges  for 
strangers,  speedily  rose,  especially  along  the  paths  of  the 
pilgrims.  St.  Pammachus  founded  one  at  Ostia  ; Paula  and 
Melania  founded  others  at  Jerusalem.  The  Council  of  Xice 
ordered  that  one  should  be  erected  in  every  city.  In  the 
time  of  St.  Chrysostom  the  church  of  Antioch  supported 
3,000  widows  and  virgins,  besides  strangers  and  sick.  Lega- 
cies for  the  poor  became  common ; and  it  was  not  unfrequent 
for  men  and  women  who  desired  to  live  a life  of  peculiar 
sanctity,  and  especially  for  priests  who  attained  the  episcopacy 

1 Lucian  describes  this  in  his  sects,  and  had  amassed  a con- 
famous  picture  of  Peregrinus ; and  siderable  fortune  by  the  gifts  he 
Julian,  much  later,  accused  the  received  on  those  occasions.  He 
Christians  of  drawing  men  into  was  at  last  miraculously  detected 
the  Church  by  their  charities,  by  the  Novatian  bishop  Paul. 
Socrates  (Hist.  Eccl.  vii.  17)  tells  There  are  several  instances  in  the 
a story  of  a Jew  who,  pretending  Lives  of  the  Saints  of  judgments 
to  be  a convert  to  Christianity,  falling  on  those  who  duped  bsne- 
had  been  often  baptised  in  different  volent  Christians. 


FROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE. 


81 


to  bestow  their  entire  properties  in  charity.  Even  the  early 
Oriental  monks,  who  for  the  most  part  were  extremely 
E-emoved  from  the  active  and  social  virtues,  supplied  many 
noble  examples  of  charity.  St.  Ephrem,  in  a time  of  pesti- 
lence, emerged  from  his  solitude  to  foimd  and  superintend  a 
hospital  at  Edessa.  A monk  named  Thalasius  collected 
blind  beggars  in  an  asylum  on  the  banks  of  the  Euphrates. 
A merchant  named  Apollonius  founded  on  Mount  Nitria  a 
gratuitous  dispensary  for  the  monks.  The  monks  often 
assisted  by  their  labours  provinces  that  were  suffering  from 
pestilence  or  famine.  We  may  trace  the  remains  of  the 
pure  socialism  that  marked  the  first  phase  of  the  Christian 
community,  in  the  emphatic  language  with  which  some  of 
the  Fathers  proclaimed  charity  to  be  a matter  not  of  mercy  but 
of  justice,  maintaining  that  all  property  is  based  on  usurp- 
ation, that  the  earth  by  right  is  common  to  all  men,  and 
that  no  man  can  claim  a superabundant  supply  of  its  goods 
except  as  an  administrator  for  others.  A Christian,  it  was 
maintained,  should  devote  at  least  one-tenth  of  his  profits  to 
the  poor.1 

The  enthusiasm  of  charity,  thus  manifested  in  the  Church, 
speedily  attracted  the  attention  of  the  Pagans.  The  ridicule 
of  Lucian,  and  the  vain  efforts  of  Julian  to  produce  a rival 
system  of  charity  within  the  limits  of  Paganism,2  emphatically 
attested  both  its  pre-eminence  and  its  catholicity.  During 


1 Sec  on  this  subject  Chastel, 
Etudes  historiques  stir  la  Charite 
(Paris,  1863) ; Mnrtin  Dnisy,  Hist, 
de  la  Charite  pendant  les  quatre 
premiers  Siecles  (Paris,  1848)  ; 
Ohampagny,  Charite  chretienne ; 
Tollemer,  Origincs  de  la  Charite 
catholique  (Paris,  1863);  Ryan, 

History  of  the  Effects  of  Religion 
vpon  Mankind  (Dublin,  1820); 
and  the  works  of  Bingham  and  of 
Cave.  I am  also  indebted,  in  this 
part  of  my  subject,  to  Dean  Milman’s 


histories,  Neander’s  Ecclesiastical 
History,  and  Private  Life  of  the 
Early  Christians,  and  to  Migne's 
Encyclopedie. 

2 See  the  famous  epistle  of 
Julian  to  Arsacius,  whero  he 
declares  that  it  is  shameful  that 
‘ the  Galileans  ’ should  support 
not  only  their  own,  but  also  the 
heathen  poor;  and  also  the  com- 
ments of  Sozomen,  Hist.  eccl.  v. 
16. 


82 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


the  pestilences  that  desolated  Carthage  in  a.d.  326,  and 
Alexandria  in  the  reigns  of  Gallienus  and  of  Maximian,  while 
the  Pagans  fled  panic-stricken  from  the  contagion,  the 
Christians  extorted  the  admiration  of  their  fellow-countrymen 
by  the  courage  with  which  they  rallied  around  their  bishops, 
consoled  the  last  hours  of  the  sufferers,  and  buried  the  aban- 
doned dead.1  In  the  rapid  increase  of  pauperism  arising 
from  the  emancipation  of  numerous  slaves,  their  charity 
found  free  scope  for  action,  and  its  resources  were  soon  taxed 
to  the  utmost  by  the  horrors  of  the  barbarian  invasions. 
The  conquest  of  Africa  by  Gcnseric  deprived  Italy  of  the 
supply  of  corn  upon  which  it  almost  wholly  depended, 
arrested  the  gratuitous  distribution  by  which  the  Roman 
poor  were  mainly  supported,  and  produced  all  over  the  land 
the  most  appalling  calamities.2  The  history  of  Italy  became 
one  monotonous  tale  of  famine  and  pestilence,  of  starving 
populations  and  ruined  cities.  But  everywhere  amid  this 
chaos  of  dissolution  we  may  detect  the  majestic  form  of  the 
Christian  priest  mediating  between  the  hostile  forces,  strain- 
ing every  nerve  to  lighten  the  calamities  around  him.  When 
the  Imperial  city  was  captured  and  plundered  by  the  hosts 
of  Alaric,  a Christian  church  remained  a secure  sanctuary, 
which  neither  the  passions  nor  the  avarice  of  the  Goths 
transgressed.  When  a fiercer  than  Alaric  had  marked  out 
Rome  for  his  prey,  the  Pope  St.  Leo,  arrayed  in  his  sacer- 
dotal robes,  confronted  the  victorious  Hun,  as  the  ambas- 


1 The  conduct  of  the  Christians, 
on  the  first  of  thoso  occasions,  is 
described  by  Pontius,  Vit.  Cypriani, 
ix.  1 9.  St.  Cyprian  organised 
their  efforts.  On  the  Alexandrian 
famines  and  pestilences,  see  Euse- 
bius, H.  E.  vii.  22  ; ix.  8. 

2 The  effects  of  this  conquest 
have  been  well  described  by  Sis- 
mondi,  Hist.de  la  Chute  de  l' Empire 
Remain,  tome  i.  pp.  258-260. 


Theodoric  afterwards  made  some 
efforts  to  re-establish  the  distri- 
bution, but  it  never  regained  its 
former  proportions.  The  pictures 
of  the  starvation  and  depopulation 
of  Italy  at  this  time  are  appalling. 
Some  fearful  facts  on  the  subject 
are  collected  by  Gibbon,  Decline 
and  Fall,  ch.xxxvi. ; Chateaubriand, 
vimc  Disc.  2l,e  partie. 


PROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE. 


S3 


Eador  of  bis  fellow-countrymen,  and  Attila,  overpowered  by 
religious  awe,  turned  aside  in  bis  course.  When,  two  years 
later,  Rome  lay  at  tbe  mercy  of  Genseric,  tbe  same  Pope 
interposed  with  tbe  Vandal  conqueror,  and  obtained  from 
him  a partial  cessation  of  tbe  massacre.  Tbe  Archdeacon 
Pelagius  inteiceded  with  similar  humanity  and  similar 
success,  when  Rome  had  been  captured  by  Totila.  In  Gaul, 
Troyes  is  said  to  have  been  saved  from  destruction  by  tho 
influence  of  St.  Lupus,  and  Orleans  by  the  influence  of  St. 
Agnan.  In  Britain  an  invasion  of  tbe  Piets  was  averted  by 
St.  Germain  of  Auxerre.  Tbe  relations  of  rulers  to  their 
subjects,  and  of  tribunals  to  tbe  poor,  were  modified  by  the 
same  intervention.  When  Antioch  was  threatened  with 
destruction  on  account  of  its  rebellion  against  Theodosius, 
the  anchorites  poured  forth  from  the  neighbouring  deserts  to 
intercede  with  the  ministers  of  the  emperor,  while  the  Arch- 
bishop Flavian  went  himself  as  a suppliant  to  Constantinople. 
St.  Ambrose  imposed  public  penance  on  Theodosius,  on 
account  of  the  massacre  of  Thessalonica.  Synesius  excom- 
municated for  Ids  oppressions  a governor  named  Andronicus ; 
and  two  French  Councils,  in  the  sixth  century,  imposed  the 
same  penalty  on  all  great  men  who  arbitrarily  ejected  the 
poor.  Special  laws  were  foimd  necessary  to  restrain  the 
turbulent  charity  of  some  priests  and  monks,  who  impeded 
the  course  of  justice,  and  even  snatched  criminals  from  tho 
hands  of  the  law.1  St.  Abraham,  St.  Epiphanius,  and  St. 
Basil  are  all  said  to  have  obtained  the  remission  or  reduction 
of  oppressive  imposts.  To  provide  for  the  interests  of  widows 
and  orphans  was  part  of  the  official  ecclesiastical  duty,  and 
a Council  of  Macon  anathematised  any  ruler  who  brought 
them  to  trial  without  first  apprising  the  bishop  of  the  diocese. 
A Council  of  Toledo,  in  the  fifth  century,  threatened  with 
excommunication  all  who  robbed  priests,  monks,  or  poor 

'Cod.  Theod.  ix.  xl.  15-16.  by  Theodosius,  a.  d.  392  ; '.he  second 
The  first  of  these  laws  was  made  by  llonorius,  a.d.  398. 


84: 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


men,  or  refused  to  listen  to  their  expostulations.  One  of  the 
chief  causes  of  the  inordinate  power  acquired  by  the  clergy 
was  their  mediatorial  office,  and  their  gigantic  wealth  was 
in  a great  degree  due  to  the  legacies  of  those  who  regarded 
them  as  the  trustees  of  the  poor.  As  time  rolled  on,  charity 
assumed  many  forms,  and  every  monastery  became  a centre 
from  which  it  radiated.  By  the  monks  the  nobles  were 
overawed,  the  poor  protected,  the  sick  tended,  travellers 
sheltered,  prisoners  ransomed,  the  remotest  spheres  of  suffer- 
ing explored.  During  the  darkest  period  of  the  middle  ages, 
monks  founded  a refuge  for  pilgrims  amid  the  horrors  of  the 
Alpine  snows.  A solitary  hermit  often  planted  himself, 
with  his  little  boat,  by  a bridgeless  stream,  and  the  charity 
of  his  life  was  to  ferry  over  the  traveller.1  When  the 
hideous  disease  of  leprosy  extended  its  ravages  over  Europe, 
when  the  minds  of  men  were  tilled  with  terror,  not  only  by 
its  loathsomeness  and  its  contagion,  but  also  by  the  notion 
that  it  was  in  a peculiar  sense  supernatural,2  new  hospitals 
and  refuges  overspread  Europe,  and  monks  flocked  in  multi- 
tudes to  serve  in  them.3  Sometimes,  the  legends  say,  the 
leper’s  form  was  in  a moment  transfigured,  and  he  who 
came  to  tend  the  most  loathsome  of  mankind  received  his 
reward,  for  he  found  himself  in  the  presence  of  his  Lord. 

There  is  no  fact  of  which  an  historian  becomes  more 


1  Cibrario,  Econornica  politico, 
del  Medio  Evo,  lib.  ii.  cap.  iii. 
The  most  remarkable  of  these 

eaints  was  St.  Julien  l’Hoxpitalier, 

who  having  under  a mistake  killed 
his  father  and  mother,  as  a penance 
bo?ame  a ferryman  of  a great 
river,  and  having  embarked  on  a 
very  stormy  and  dangerous  night 
at  the  voice  of  a traveller  in  dis- 
tress, received  Christ  into  his  boat. 
His  story  is  painted  on  a window 
of  the  thirteenth  century,  in  Rouen 
Cathedral.  See  Langlois,  Essai 


historique  sur  la  Peinture  sur  verre, 
pp.  32-37- 

2 The  fact  of  leprosy  being 
takon  as  the  image  of  sin  gavo  rise 
to  some  curious  notions  of  its 
supernatural  character,  and  to 
many  legends  of  saints  curing 
leprosy  by  baptism.  See  Maury, 
Legcndes  pieuses  du  Moyen-Age, 
pp.  64-65. 

3 See  on  these  hospitals  Cibrario, 
E'on.  Politico  del  Medio  Evo,  lib. 
iii.  cap.  ii. 


FROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE. 


85 


B]>eedily  or  more  painfully  conscious  than  the  great  difference 
between  the  importance  and  the  dramatic  interest  of  the 
subjects  he  treats.  Wars  or  massacres,  the  horrors  of 
martyrdom  or  the  splendours  of  individual  prowess,  are 
susceptible  of  such  brilliant  colouring,  that  with  but  little 
literary  skill  they  can  be  so  pourtrayed  that  them  importance 
is  adequately  realised,  and  they  appeal  powerfully  to  the 
emotions  of  the  reader.  But  this  vast  and  unostentatious 
movement  of  charity,  operating  in  the  village  hamlet  and  in 
the  lonely  hospital,  staunching  the  widow’s  tears,  and  follow- 
ing all  the  windings  of  the  poor  man’s  griefs,  presents  few 
features  the  imagination  can  grasp,  and  leaves  no  deep  im- 
pression upon  the  mind.  The  greatest  things  are  often  those 
which  are  most  imperfectly  realised ; and  surely  no  achieve- 
ments of  the  Christian  Church  are  more  truly  great  than 
those  which  it  has  effected  in  the  sphere  of  charity.  For 
the  first  time  in  the  history  of  mankind,  it  has  inspired 
many  thousands  of  men  and  women,  at  the  sacrifice  of  all 
worldly  interests,  and  often  under  circumstances  of  extreme 
discomfort  or  danger,  to  devote  their  entire  lives  to  the 
single  object  of  assuaging  the  sufferings  of  humanity.  It  has 
covered  the  globe  with  countless  institutions  of  mercy, 
absolutely  unknown  to  the  whole  Pagan  world.  It  has 
indissolubly  united,  in  the  minds  of  men,  the  idea  of  supreme 
goodness  with  that  of  active  and  constant  benevolence.  It 
has  placed  in  every  parish  a religious  minister,  who,  whatever 
may  be  his  other  functions,  has  at  least  been  officially  charged 
with  the  superintendence  of  an  organisation  of  charity,  and 
who  finds  in  this  office  one  of  the  most  important  as  well  as 
one  of  the  most  legitimate  sources  of  his  power. 

There  are,  however,  two  important  qualifications  to  the 
admiration  with  which  we  regard  the  history  of  Christian 
charity — one  relating  to  a particular  form  of  suffering,  and 
she  other  of  a more  general  kind.  A strong,  ill-defined 
notmn  of  the  supernatural  character  of  insanity  had  existed 
38 


80 


HISTORY  OP  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


from  the  earliest  times ; but  there  were  special  circumstances 
which  rendered  the  action  of  the  Church  peculiarly  unfavour- 
able to  those  who  were  either  predisposed  to  or  afflicted  with 
this  calamity.  The  reality  both  of  witchcraft  and  diabolical 
possession  had  been  distinctly  recognised  in  the  Jewish 
writings.  The  received  opinions  about  eternal  torture,  and 
over-present  daemons,  and  the  continued  strain  upon  tho 
imagination,  in  dwelling  upon  an  unseen  world,  were  pre- 
eminently fitted  to  produce  madness  in  those  who  were  at  all 
predisposed  to  it,  and,  where  insanity  had  actually  appeared, 
to  determine  the  form  and  complexion  of  the  hallucinations 
of  the  maniac.1  Theology  supplying  all  the  images  that 
acted  most  powerfully  upon  the  imagination,  most  madness, 
for  many  centuries,  took  a theological  cast.  One  important 
department  of  it  appears  chiefly  in  the  lives  of  the  saints. 
Men  of  lively  imaginations  and  absolute  ignorance,  living 
apart  from  all  their  fellows,  amid  the  horrors  of  a savage 
wilderness,  practising  austerities  by  which  their  physical 
system  was  thoroughly  deranged,  and  firmly  persuaded  that 
innumerable  devils  were  continually  hovering  about  their 
cells  and  interfering  with  their  devotions,  speedily  and  very 
naturally  became  subject  to  constant  hallucinations,  which 
probably  form  the  nucleus  of  truth  in  the  legends  of  their 
lives.  But  it  was  impossible  that  insanity  should  confine 
itself  to  the  orthodox  forms  of  celestial  visions,  or  of  the 
apparitions  and  the  defeats  of  devils.  Very  frequently  it 
led  the  unhappy  maniac  to  some  delusion,  which  called  down 

1 Calmed  observes  : ‘ On  a sou-  caractere  des  ^Tenements  relatifs  a 
vent  constate  depuis  un  demi-si&clo  la  politique  exterieure,  le  caractere 
que  la  t'olie  est  sujette  a prendre  des  ev^nements  civils,  la  nature 
la  teinte  des  croyauces  religieuses,  des  productions  lit.teraires,  des 
rles  idees  philosophiques  ou  super-  representations  theatrales,  suivant 
stitieuses,  des  prejugds  sociaux  qui  la  tournure,  la  direction,  le  genre 
ont  cours,  qui  sont  actuellement  d’elan  qu’y  prennent  l’industrie,  les 
en  vogue  parmi  les  peuples  ou  les  arts  et  les  sciences.’--  L>e  la  h'olie^ 
nations;  que  cetto  teinte  varie  tome  i.  pp.  122-123. 
dans  un  rneme  pays  suivant  le 


FROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE. 


87 


upon  him  the  speedy  sentence  of  the  Church.  Thus,  in  the 
year  1300,  the  corpse  of  a Bohemian,  or,  according  to  another 
version,  an  English  girl,  who  imagined  herself  to  he  the  Holy 
Ghost  incarnate  for  the  redemption  of  women,  was  dug  up  and 
burnt;  and  two  women  who  believed  in  her  perished  at  the 
stake.1  In  the  year  1359,  a Spaniard  declared  himself  to  he 
the  brother  of  the  archangel  Michael,  and  to  be  destined  for 
the  place  in  heaven  which  Satan  had  lost;  and  he  added  that 
he  was  accustomed  every  day  both  to  mount  into  heaven  and 
descend  into  hell,  that  the  end  of  the  world  was  at  hand,  and 
that  it  was  reserved  for  him  to  enter  into  single  combat  with 
Antichrist.  The  poor  lunatic  fell  into  the  hands  of  the 
Archbishop  of  Toledo,  and  was  burnt  alive.2  In  some  cases 
the  hallucination  took  the  form  of  an  irregular  inspiration. 
On  this  charge,  Joan  of  Arc,  and  another  girl,  who  had  been 
fired  by  her  example,  and  had  endeavoured,  apparently  under 
a genuine  hallucination,  to  follow  her  career,3  were  burnt 
alive.  A famous  Spanish  physician  and  scholar,  named 
Torralba,  who  lived  in  the  sixteenth  century,  and  who 
imagined  that  he  had  an  attendant  angel  continually  about 
him,  escaped  with  public  penance  and  confession ; 4 but  a 


1 Milman’s  History  of  Latin 
Christianity,  vol.  vii.,  p.  353-354. 
‘Venit  de  Anglia  virgo  decora 
valde,  pariterque  facunda,  dicens, 
Ppiritum  Sanctum  incarnatum  in 
redemptionem  mulierum,  et  bap- 
tisavit  mulieres  in  nomine  Patris, 
Pilii  et  sui.  Qua?  mortua  ducta 
fuit  in  Mediolanum,  ibi  et  cremata.’ 
— Annates  Dominicanorum  Colma- 
riensium  (in  the  ‘ Rerum  Ger- 
manic. Scriptores  ’). 

2 ‘ Martin  Gonqalez,  du  diochse 

do  Cuenca,  disoit  qu’il  etoit  frbre 

de  1’archange  S Michel,  la  premihre 
verite  et  l’echelle  du  ciel ; que 
e’etoit  pour  lui  quo  Dieu  reservoit 
la  place  que  Lucifer  avoit  perdue  ; 


que  tous  les  jours  il  s’elevoit  au  plus 
haut  de  l’Empiree  et  descendoit, 
ensuite  au  plus  profond  dcs  enters  ; 
qu’il  la  fin  du  monde,  qui  etoit 
proche,  il  iroit  au  devant  de  1’ Anti- 
christ et  qu’il  le  terrasseroit,  ayant 
il  sa  main  la  croix  de  Jesus-Christ 
et  sa  couronne  d’epines.  L’arche- 
veque  de  Tolhde,  n’ayant  pu  con- 
vertir  ce  fanatique  obstine,  ni  l’em- 
pecher  de  dogmatiser,  l’avoit  enfin 
livre  au  bras  seculier. — Touron, 
Hist,  dcs  Homines  illusfres  de  Vordrc 
de  St.  Dominique , Paris,  1745  ( Vic 
d' Eymericus),  tome  ii.  p.  635. 

3 Calmeil,  Dc  la  Folic,  tome  i. 
p.  134. 

4 Ibid,  tome  i.  pp.  242-247. 


8S 


HISTORY  OF  ETTROFEAN  MORALS. 


professor  of  theology  in  Lima,  who  laboured  under  the  same 
delusion,  and  added  to  it  some  wild  notions  about  his  spiritual 
dignities,  was  less  fortunate.  He  was  burnt  by  the  Inquiyi- 
tion  of  Peru.1  Most  commonly,  however,  the  theological 
notions  about  witchcraft  either  produced  madness  or  deter- 
mined its  form,  and,  through  the  influence  of  the  clergy  of 
tho  different  sections  of  the  Christian  Church,  many  thousands 
of  unhappy  women,  who,  from  their  age,  their  loneliness,  and 
their  infirmity,  were  most  deserving  of  pity,  were  devoted  to 
the  hatred  of  mankind,  and,  having  been  tortured  with 
horrible  and  ingenious  cruelty,  were  at  last  burnt  alive. 

The  existence,  however,  of  some  forms  of  natural  madness 
was  generally  admitted  ; but  the  measures  for  the  relief  of 
the  unhappy  victims  were  very  few,  and  very  ill  judged. 
Among  the  ancients,  they  were  brought  to  tho  temples,  and 
subjected  to  imposing  ceremonies,  which  were  believed 
supernaturally  to  relieve  them,  and  which  probably  had  a 
favourable  influence  through  their  action  upon  the  imagina- 
tion. The  great  Greek  physicians  had  devoted  considerable 
attention  to  this  malady,  and  some  of  their  precepts  anti- 
cipated modern  discoveries ; but  no  lunatic  asylum  appears 
to  have  existed  in  antiquity.2  In  the  first  period  of  tho 
hermit  life,  when  many  anchorites  became  insane  through 
their  penances,  a refuge  is  said  to  have  been  opened  for  them 
at  Jerusalem.3  This  appears,  however,  to  be  a solitary 
instance,  arising  from  the  exigencies  of  a single  class,  and  no 
lunatic  asylum  existed  in  Christian  Europe  till  the  fifteenth 
century.  The  Mohammedans,  in  this  form  of  charity,  seem 
to  have  preceded  the  Christians.  Benjamin  of  Tudela,  who 
visited  Bagdad  in  the  twelfth  century,  describes  a palace  in 
that  city,  called  ‘the  House  of  Mercy,’  in  which  all  mad 
persons  found  in  the  country  were  confined  and  bound  with 

Calmeil,  tomo  i.  p.  24-7.  3 Gibbon,  Decline  and  Fall,  ch. 

1 Soe  Esquirol,  Maladies  men-  xxxvii. 
talcs. 


PROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE. 


89 


iron  chains.  They  were  carefully  examined  every  month 
and  released  as  soon  as  they  recovered.'  The  asylum  of 
Cairo  is  said  to  have  been  founded  in  a.d.  1304.2  Leo 
African  us  notices  the  existence  of  a similar  institution  at  Fez, 
in  the  beginning  of  the  sixteenth  century,  and  mentions  that 
the  patients  were  restrained  by  chains,3  and  it  is  probable 
that  the  care  of  the  insane  was  a general  form  of  charity 
in  Mohammedan  countries.  Among  the  Christians  it  first 
appeared  in  quarters  contiguous  to  the  Mohammedans ; but 
there  is,  I think,  no  real  evidence  that  it  was  derived  from 
Mohammedan  example.  The  Knights  of  Malta  were  famous 
as  the  one  order  who  admitted  lunatics  into  their  hospitals  ; 
but  no  Christian  asylum  expressly  for  their  benefit  existed 
till  1409.  The  honour  of  instituting  this  form- of  charity  in 
Christendom  belongs  to  Spain.  A monk  named  Juan  Gila- 
berto  Joffie,  filled  with  compassion  at  the  sight  of  the 
maniacs  who  were  hooted  by  crowds  through  the  streets  of 
Valencia,  founded  an  asylum  in  that  city,  and  his  example 
was  speedily  followed  in  other  provinces.  The  new  charity 
was  introduced  into  Saragossa  in  a.d.  1425,  mto  Seville  and 
Valladolid  in  a.d.  1436,  into  Toledo  in  a.d.  1483.  All  these 
institutions  existed  before  a single  lunatic  asylum  had  been 
founded  in  any  other  part  of  Christendom.4  Two  other  very 
honourable  facts  may  be  mentioned,  establishing  the  pre- 
eminence of  Spanish  charity  in  this  field.  The  first  is,  that 
the  oldest  lunatic  asylum  in  the  metropolis  of  Catholicism 
was  that  erected  by  Spaniards,  in  a.d.  1548.5  The  second  is, 

1 Purchas’s  Pilgrims,  ii.  1452.  Spaniards  took  their  asylums  from 

2 Desmaisons’  Asiles  d' Alienks  the  Mohammedans ; but,  as  it 

en  Espagne,  p.  53.  seems  to  me,  he  altogether  fails  to 

3 Leo  Africanus,  Description  of  prove  his  point.  His  work,  how- 

Africa,  book  iii.  ever,  contains  some  curious  in- 

4 1 have  taken  these  facts  from  formation  on  the  history  of  lunatic 
a very  interesting  little  work,  Des-  asylums. 

anaisons,  Des  Asiles  d’ Alienee  en  6 Amydemus,  Pietas  Romana 
Espagne ; Recherches  historiques  et  (Oxford,  1687),  P-  21  ; Desmaisons, 
medicales  (Paris,  1859).  Dr.  Des-  p.  108. 
maisons  conjectures  that  the 


90 


HISTOBY  OF  ETJBOPEAN  MOBALS. 


that  when,  at  the  close  of  the  last  century,  Pinel  began  his 
great  labours  in  this  sphere,  he  pro  nonneed  Spain  to  be  the 
country  in  which  lunatics  were  treated  with  most  wisdom 
and  most  humanity.' 

In  most  countries  their  condition  was  indeed  truly 
deplorable.  While  many  thousands  were  burnt  as  witches, 
those  who  were  recognised  as  insane  were  compelled  o 
endure  all  the  horrors  of  the  harshest  imprisonment. 
Blows,  bleeding,  and  chains  were  their  usual  treatment,  and 
horrible  accounts  were  given  of  madmen  who  had  spent 
decades  bound  in  dark  cells.1 2  Such  treatment  naturally 
aggravated  then-  malady,  and  that  malady  in  many  cases 
rendered  impossible  the  resignation  and  ultimate  torpor 
which  alleviate  the  sufferings  of  ordinary  prisoners.  Not 
until  the  eighteenth  century  was  the  condition  of  this 
unhappy  class  seriously  improved.  The  combined  progress  of 
theological  scepticism  and  scientific  knowledge  relegated 
witchcraft  to  the  world  of  phantoms,  and  the  exertions  of 
Morgagni  in  Italy,  of  Cullen  in  Scotland,  and  of  Pinel  in 
France,  renovated  the  whole  treatment  of  acknowledged 
lunatics. 

The  second  qualification  to  the  admiration  with  which  we 
regard  the  history  of  Christian  charity  arises  from  the 
undoubted  fact  that  a large  proportion  of  charitable  insti- 
tutions have  directly  increased  the  poverty  they  were  intended 
to  relieve.  The  question  of  the  utility  and  nature  of  charity  is 
one  which,  since  the  modern  discoveries  of  political  economy, 
has  elicited  much  discussion,  and  in  many  cases,  I think,  much 
exaggeration.  What  political  economy  has  effected  on  the 
subject  may  be  comprised  under  two  heads.  It  has  elucidated 
moie  clearly,  and  in  greater  detail  than  had  before  been 
doi  e,  the  effect  of  provident  self-interest  in  determining  the 


1 Pinel,  Traite  medico-philoso-  8 See  the  dreadful  description 

phique,  pp.  241,  242.  in  Pinel,  pp.  200-202. 


FROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE. 


91 


welfare  of  societies,  and  it  has  established  a broad  distinction 
between  productive  and  unproductive  expenditure.  It  has 
Bhown  that,  where  idleness  is  supported,  idleness  will  become 
common ; that,  where  systematic  public  provision  is  made  for 
old  age,  the  parsimony  of  foresight  will  be  neglected ; anti 
that  therefore  these  forms  of  charity,  by  encouraging  habits 
of  idleness  and  improvidence,  ultimately  increase  the  wretched- 
ness they  were  intended  to  alleviate.  It  has  also  shown 
that,  while  unproductive  expenditure,  such  as  that  which  is 
devoted  to  amusements  or  luxury,  is  undoubtedly  beneficial 
to  those  who  provide  it,  the  fruit  perishes  in  the  usage ; while 
productive  expenditure,  such  as  the  manufacture  of  machines, 
or  the  improvement  of  the  soil,  or  the  extension  of  commercial 
enterprise,  gives  a new  impulse  to  the  creation  of  wealth.  It 
has  proved  that  the  first  condition  of  the  rapid  accumulation 
of  capital  is  the  diversion  of  money  from  unproductive  to 
productive  channels,  and  that  the  amount  of  accumulated 
capital  is  one  of  the  two  regulating  influences  of  the  wages  of 
the  labourer.  From  these  positions  some  persons  have  in- 
ferred that  charity  should  be  condemned  as  a form  of  unpro- 
ductive expenditure.  But,  in  the  first  place,  all  charities 
that  foster  habits  of  forethought  and  develop  new  capacities 
in  the  poorer  classes,  such  as  popular  education,  or  the 
formation  of  savings  banks,  or  insurance  companies,  or,  in 
many  cases,  small  and  discriminating  loans,  or  measures 
directed  to  the  suppression  of  dissipation,  are  in  the  strictest 
sense  productive  ; and  the  same  may  be  said  of  many  forms 
of  employment,  given  in  exceptional  crises  through  chari tame 
motives ; and,  in  the  next  place,  it  is  only  necessary  to 
remember  that  the  happiness  of  mankind,  to  which'  the 
accumulation  of  wealth  should  only  be  regarded  as  a means, 
I.i  the  real  object  of  charity,  and  it  will  appear  that  many 
forms  which  are  not  strictly  productive,  in  the  commercial 
sense,  are  in  the  highest  degree  conducive  to  this  end,  and 
have  no  serious  coun  tex-acting  evil.  In  the  alleviation  of 


92 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


those  sufferings  that  do  not  spring  either  from  improvidence 
or  from  vice,  the  warmest  as  well  as  the  most  enlightened 
charity  will  find  an  ample  sphere  for  its  exertions.1  Blind- 
ness, and  other  exceptional  calamities,  against  the  effects  of 
which  prudence  does  not  and  cannot  provide,  the  miseries 
resulting  from  epidemics,  from  war,  from  famine,  from  the 
first  sudden  collapse  of  industry,  produced  by  new  inventions 
or  changes  in  the  channels  of  commerce  ; hospitals,  which, 
besides  other  advantages,  are  the  greatest  schools  of  medical 
science,  and  withdraw  from  the  crowded  alley  multitudes 
who  would  otherwise  form  centres  of  contagion — these,  and 
such  as  these,  will  long  tax  to  the  utmost  the  generosity  of 
the  wealthy ; while,  even  in  the  spheres  upon  which  the 
political  economist  looks  with  the  most  unfavourable  eye, 
exceptional  cases  will  justify  exceptional  assistance.  The 
charity  which  is  pernicious  is  commonly  not  the  highest  but 
the  lowest  kind.  The  rich  man,  prodigal  of  money,  which  is 
to  him  of  little  value,  but  altogether  incapable  of  devoting 
any  personal  attention  to  the  object  of  his  alms,  often 
injures  society  by  his  donations;  but  this  is  rarely  the  case 
with  that  far  nobler  charity  which  makes  men  familiar 
with  the  haunts  of  wretchedness,  and  follows  the  object 
of  its  care  through  all  the  phases  of  his  life.  The  question 
of  the  utility  of  charity  is  merely  a question  of  ultimate 
consequences.  Political  economy  has,  no  doubt,  laid  down 
some  general  rules  of  great  value  on  the  subject ; but  yet 
the  pages  which  Cicero  devoted  to  it  nearly  two  thousand 
years  ago  might  have  been  written  by  the  most  enlightened 
modern  economist ; and  it  will  be  continually  found  that  the 
Pr  otestant  lady,  working  in  her  parish,  by  the  simple  force  of 


'Malthas,  who  is  sometimes,  tion  of  our  charity;’  but  the 
though  most  unjustly,  described  as  fullest  examination  of  this  subject 
an  enemy  to  all  charity,  has  devoted  with  which  I am  acquainted  is  the 
an  admirable  chapter  (On  Popula-  very  interesting  work  of  Duch&tel, 
tivn,  book  iv.  ch.  ix.)  to  the  ‘ dircc-  Sur  la  Charite. 


FROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE. 


93 


common  sense  and  by  a scrupulous  and  minute  attention  to 
the  condition  and  character  of  those  whom  she  relieves,  is 
unconsciously  illustrating  with  perfect  accuracy  the  en- 
lightened charity  of  Malthus. 

But  in  order  that  charity  should  be  useful,  it  is  essential 
that  the  benefit  of  the  sufferer  should  be  a real  object  to  the 
donor ; and  a very  large  proportion  of  the  evils  that  havo 
arisen  from  Catholic  charity  may  be  traced  to  the  absence  of 
this  condition.  The  first  substitution  of  devotion  for  philan- 
thropy, as  the  motive  of  benevolence,  gave  so  powerful  a 
stimulus  to  the  affections,  that  it  may  on  the  whole  be  re- 
garded as  a benefit,  though,  by  making  compassion  operate 
solely  through  a theological  medium,  it  often  produced  among 
theologians  a more  than  common  indifference  to  the  sufferings 
of  all  who  were  external  to  their  religious  community.  But 
the  new  principle  speedily  degenerated  into  a belief  in  the 
expiatory  nature  of  the  gifts.  A form  of  what  may  be  termed 
selfish  charity  arose,  which  acquired  at  last  gigantic  propor- 
tions, and  exercised  a most  pernicious  influence  upon  Chris- 
tendom. Men  gave  money  to  the  pool',  simply  and  exclusively 
for  them  own  .spiritual  benefit,  and  the  welfare  of  the  sufferer 
was  altogether  foreign  to  their  thoughts.1 

The  evil  which  thus  arose  from  some  forms  of  Catholic 
charity  may  be  traced  from  a very  early  period,  but  it  only 
acquired  its  full  magnitude  after  some  centuries.  The  Roman 
system  of  gratuitous  distribution  was,  in  the  eyes  of  the  poli- 
tical economist,  about  the  worst  that  could  be  conceived,  and 
the  charity  of  the  Church  being,  in  at  least  a measure,  dis- 
criminating, was  at  first  a Yery  great,  though  even  then  not 
an  unmingled,  good.  Labour  was  also  not  unfrequently  en- 


’ This  is  very  tersely  ex-  command  of  my  God.’  — Sir  T. 
pressed  by  a great  Protestant  Brown,  Rcligio  Medici , part  ii.  § 2. 
writer:  ‘I  give  no  alms  to  satisfy  A saying  almost  exactly  similar  is, 
the  hunger  of  my  brother,  but  to  if  I remember  right,  ascribed  to 
fulfil  and  accomplish  the  will  and  St.  Elizabeth  of  Hungary. 


94 


HISTORY  OP  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


joined  as  a duty  by  tbe  Fathers,  and  at  a later  period  the 
services  of  the  Benedictine  monks,  in  destroying  by  tlioir 
example  the  stigma  which  slavery  had  attached  to  it,  were 
very  great.  Still,  one  of  the  first  consequences  of  the  exube- 
rant charity  of  the  Church  was  to  multiply  impostors  and 
mendicants,  and  the  idleness  of  the  monks  was  one  of  the 
earliest  complaints.  Valentinian  made  a severe  law,  con- 
demning robust  beggars  to  perpetual  slavery.  As  the  monastic 
system  was  increased,  and  especially  after  the  mendicant  orders 
had  consecrated  mendicancy,  the  evil  assumed  gigantic  dimen- 
sions. Many  thousands  of  strong  men,  absolutely  without 
private  means,  were  in  every  country  withdrawn  from  pro- 
ductive labour,  and  supported  by  charity.  The  notion  of  tbe 
meritorious  nature  of  simple  almsgiving  immeasurably  multi- 
plied beggars.  The  stigma,  which  it  is  the  highest  interest  of 
society  to  attach  to  mendicancy,  it  became  a mam  object  of 
theologians  to  remove.  Saints  wandered  through  the  world 
begging  money,  that  they  might  give  to  beggars,  or  depriving 
themselves  of  their  garments,  that  they  might  clothe  the  naked, 
and  the  result  of  then  teaching  was  speedily  apparent.  In 
all  Catholic  countries  where  ecclesiastical  influences  have  been 
permitted  to  develop  unmolested,  the  monastic  organisations 
have  proved  a deadly  canker,  corroding  the  prosperity  of  the 
nation.  Withdrawing  multitudes  from  all  production,  en- 
couraging a blind  and  pernicious  almsgiving,  diffusing  habits 
of  improvidence  through  the  poorer  classes,  fostering  an  igno- 
rant admiration  for  saintly  poverty,  and  an  equally  ignorant 
antipathy  to  the  habits  and  aims  of  an  industrial  civilisation, 
they  have  paralysed  all  energy,  and  proved  an  insuperable 
Ira  rrier  to  material  progress.  The  poverty  they  have  relieved 
has  been  insignificant  compared  with  the  poverty  they  have 
caused.  In  no  case  was  the  abolition  of  monasteries  effected 
in  a more  indefensible  manner  than  in  England ; but  the 
transfer  of  property,  that  was  once  employed  in  a great 
measure  in  charity,  to  the  courtiers  of  King  Henry,  was  ulti 


FKOM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHAELEMAGNE. 


95 


mately  a benefit  to  the  English  poor ; for  no  misapplication 
of  tins  property  by  private  persons  could  produce  as  much 
evil  as  an  unrestrained  nionasticism.  The  value  of  Catholic 
services  in  alleviating  pain  and  sickness,  and  the  more  excep- 
tional forms  of  suffering,  can  never  be  overrated.  The  noble 
heroism  of  her  servants,  who  have  devoted  themselves  to 
charity,  has  never  been  surpassed,  and  the  perfection  of  their 
organisation  has,  I think,  never  been  equalled ; but  in  the 
sphere  of  simple  poverty  it  can  hardly  be  doubted  that  the 
Catholic  Church  has  created  more  misery  than  it  has  cured. 

Still,  even  in  this  field,  we  must  not  forget  the  benefits 
resulting,  if  not  to  the  sufferer,  at  least  to  the  donor.  Chari- 
table habits,  even  when  formed  in  the  first  instance  from 
selfish  motives,  even  when  so  misdirected  as  to  be  positively 
injurious  to  the  recipient,  rarely  fail  to  exercise  a softening 
and  purifying  influence  on  the  character.  All  through  the 
darkest  period  of  the  middle  ages,  amid  ferocity  and  fanati- 
cism and  brutality,  we  may  trace  the  subduing  influence  of 
Catholic  charity,  blending  strangely  with  every  excess  of  vio- 
lence and  every  outburst  of  persecution.  It  would  be  difficult 
to  conceive  a more  frightful  picture  of  society  than  is  pre- 
sented by  the  history  of  Gregory  of  Tours;  but  that  long 
series  of  atrocious  crimes,  narrated  with  an  almost  appalling 
tranquillity,  is  continually  interspersed  with  accounts  of  kings, 
queens,  or  prelates,  who,  in  the  midst  of  the  disorganised 
society,  made  the  relief  of  the  poor  the  main  object  of  their 
lives.  No  period  of  history  exhibits  a larger  amount  of 
cruelty,  licentiousness,  and  fanaticism  than  the  Crusades  ; bub 
side  by  side  with  the  military  enthusiasm,  and  with  the  almost 
uni  vasal  corruption,  there  expanded  a vast  movement  of 
charity,  which  covered  Christendom  with  hospitals  for  the 
relief  of  leprosy,  and  which  grappled  nobly,  though  ineffec- 
tually, with  the  many  forms  of  suffering  that  were  generated. 
St.  Peter  Nolasco,  whose  great  labours  in  ransoming  captive 
Christians  I have  already  noticed,  was  an  active  participator 


96 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


in  the  atrocious  massacre  of  the  AJbigenses.1  Of  Shane 
O’Neale,  one  of  the  ablest,  but  also  one  of  the  most  ferocious, 
Irish  chieftains  who  ever  defied  the  English  power,  it  is  re- 
lated, amid  a crowd  of  crimes,  that,  ‘ sitting  at  meat,  before 
he  put  one  morsel  into  his  mouth  he  used  to  slice  a portion 
above  the  daily  alms,  and  send  it  to  some  beggar  at  his  gate, 
saying  it  was  meet  to  serve  Christ  first.’2 

The  great  evils  produced  by  the  encouragement  of  mendi- 
cancy which  has  always  accompanied  the  uncontrolled  deve- 
lopment of  Catholicity,  have  naturally  given  rise  to  much 
discussion  and  legislation.  The  fierce  denunciations  of  the 
mendicant  orders  by  William  of  St.  Amour  in  the  thirteenth 
century  were  not  on  account  of  their'  encouragement  of  mis- 
chievous charity  ;3  but  one  of  the  disciples  of  Wyclifie,  named 
Nicholas  of  Hereford,  was  conspicuous  for  his  opposition  to 
indiscriminate  gifts  to  beggars ; 4 and  a few  measures  of  an 
extended  older-  appear  to  have  been  taken  even  before  the 
Reformation.4  In  England  laws  of  the  most  savage  cruelty 
were  then  passed,  in  hopes  of  eradicating  mendicancy.  A 
parliament  of  Henry  VIII.,  before  the  suppression  of  the 
monasteries,  issued  a law  providing  a system  of  organised 
charity,  and  imposing  on  any  one  who  gave  any  tiling  to  a 
beggar  a fine  of  ten  times  the  value  of  his  gift.  A sturdy 
beggar  was  to  be  punished  with  whipping  for  the  first  offence, 
with  wldpping  and  the  loss  of  the  tip  of  his  ear  for  the  second, 


1 See  Butler’s  Lives  of  the 
Saints. 

2 Campion’s  Historic  of  Ireland , 
book  ii.  eliap.  x. 

3 lie  wrote  his  Perils  of  the  Last 
Times  in  the  interest  of  the  Uni- 
versity of  Paris,  of  which  he  was 
e Professor,  and  which  was  at  war 
with  the  mendicant  orders.  See 
Milman's  Latin  Christianity,  vol. 
vi.  pp.  348  -356;  Fleury,  Eccl. 

Hist,  lxxxiv.  67. 


* Henry  de  Knyghton,  De 
Eventibus  Anglia. 

5 There  was  some  severe  lega- 
tion in  England  on  the  subject 
after  the  Black  Death.  Eden’s 
History  of  the  Working  Classes, 
vol.  i.  p.  34.  In  France,  too,  a 
royal  ordinance  of  1350  ordered 
men  who  had  been  convicted  of 
begging  three  times  to  be  branded 
with  a hot  iron.  Monteil,  Hu t 
dest  Frangais,  tome  i.  p.  434. 


FROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE. 


97 


and  with  death  for  the  third.1  Under  Edward  VI.,  an  atro- 
cious law,  which,  however,  was  repealed  in  the  same  reign, 
enacted  that  every  sturdy  beggar  who  refused  to  work  should 
be  branded,  and  adjudged  for  two  years  as  a slave  to  the 
person  who  gave  information  against  him ; and  if  he  took 
flight  during  his  period  of  servitude,  he  was  condemned  for 
the  first  offence  to  perpetual  slavery,  and  for  the  second  to 
death.  The  master  was  authorised  to  put  a ring  of  ir  on 
round  the  neck  of  his  slave,  to  chain  him,  and  to  scourge  him. 
Any  one  might  take  the  children  of  a sturdy  beggar  for  ap- 
prentices, till  the  boys  were  twenty-four  and  the  girls  twenty.2 
Another  law,  made  under  Elizabeth,  punished  with  death  any 
strong  man  under  the  age  of  eighteen  who  was  convicted  for 
the  third  time  of  begging ; but  the  penalty  in  this  reign  was 
afterwards  reduced  to  a life-long  service  in  the  galleys,  or  to 
banishment,  with  a penalty  of  death  to  the  returned  convict.3 
Under  the  same  queen  the  poor-law  system  was  elaborated, 
and  Malthus  long  afterwards  showed  that  its  effects  in  dis- 
couraging parsimony  rendered  it  scarce1  y less  pernicious  than 
the  monastic  system  that  had  preceded  it.  In  many  Catholic 
countries,  severe,  though  less  atrocious,  measures  were  taken 
to  grapple  with  the  evil  of  mendicancy.  That  shrewd  and 
sagacious  pontiff,  Sixtus  V.,  who,  though  not  the  greatest 
man,  was  by  far  the  greatest  statesman  who  has  ever  sat  on 
the  papal  throne,  made  praiseworthy  efforts  to  check  it  at 
Rome,  where  ecclesiastical  influence  had  always  made  it  pccu- 
iiarly  prevalent.'1  Charles  V.,  in  1531,  issued  a severe  en- 
actment against  beggars  in  the  Netherlands,  but  excepted 
from  its  operation  mendicant  friars  and  pilgrims.5  Under 
Lewis  XIV.,  equally  severe  measures  were  taken  in  France, 
Bat  though  the  practical  evil  was  fully  felt,  there  was  little 

Eden,  vol.  i.  pp.  83-87.  de  Rome. 

2 Ibid.  pp.  101-103.  5 Eden,  History  of  the  Labour* 

® Ibid.  pp.  127-130.  ing  Classes,  i.  83. 

* Morighini,  Institutions  pieuses 


98 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


philosophical  investigation  of  its  causes  before  the  eighteenth 
century.  Locke  in  England,1  and  Berkeley  in  Ireland,2 
briefly  glanced  at  the  subject ; and  in  1704  Defoe  published  a 
very  remarkable  tract,  called,  ‘ Giving  Alms  no  Charity,’  in 
which  he  noticed  the  extent  to  which  mendicancy  existed  in 
England,  though  wages  were  higher  than  in  any  Continental 
country.3  A still  more  remarkable  book,  written  by  an  author 
named  Ricci,  appeared  at  Modena  in  1787,  and  excited  con- 
siderable attention.  The  author  pointed  out  with  much  force 
the  gigantic  development  of  mendicancy  in  Italy,  traced  it  to 
the  excessive  charity  of  the  people,  and  appeal's  to  have  re- 
garded as  an  evil  all  charity  which  sprang  from  religious 
motives  and  was  greater  than  would  spring  from  the  unaided 
instincts  of  men.4  The  freethinker  Mandeville  had  long  before 
assailed  charity  schools,  and  the  whole  system  of  endeavouring 
to  elevate  the  poor,5  and  Magdalen  asylums  and  foundling 
hospitals  have  had  fierce,  though  I believe  much  mistaken, 
adversaries.6  The  reforms  of  the  poor-laws,  and  the  writings 


1 Locke  discussed  the  great  in- 
crease of  poverty,  and  a bill  was 
brought  in  suggesting  some  reme- 
dies, but  did  not  pass.  (Eden,  vol. 
i.  pp.  243-218.) 

2 In  a very  forcible  letter  ad- 
dressed to  the  Irish  Catholic  clergy. 

3 This  tract,  which  is  extremely 
valuable  for  the  light  it  throws 
upon  the  social  condition  of  Eng- 
land at  the  time,  was  written  in 
opposition  to  a bill  providing  that 
the  poor  in  the  poor-houses  should 
do  wool,  hemp,  iron,  and  other 
works.  Defoe  says  that  wages  in 

England  were  higher  than  any- 
where on  the  Continent,  though  the 
amount  of  mendicancy  was  enor- 
mous. ‘ The  reason  why  so  many  pre- 
tend to  want  work  is,  that  they  can 

live  so  well  with  the  pretence  of 

wanting  work.  . . I affirm  of  my  own 


knowledge,  when  I have  wanted 
a man  for  labouring  work,  and 
offered  nine  shillings  per  week  to 
strolling  fellows  at  my  door,  they 
have  frequently  told  me  to  my  face 
they  could  get  more  a-begging.’ 

4 Reforma  dtgl'  Instituii  pii  di 
Modena  (published  first  anony- 
mously at  Modena).  It  has  been 
reprinted  in  the  library  of  the 
Italian  economists. 

5 Essay  on  Chanty  Schools. 

6 Magdalen  asylums  have  been 
very  vehemently  assailed  by  M. 
Charles  Comte,  in  his  Traite  de 
Legislation.  On  the  subject  of 
Foundling  Hospitals  there  is  a 
whole  literature.  They  were  vio- 
lently attacked  by  I believe,  Lord 
Brougham,  in  the  Edinburgh  Re- 
view,  in  the  early  part  of  this  cen- 
tury. Writers  of  this  stamp,  and 


FROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE. 


99 


of  Malthus,  gave  a new  impulse  to  discussion  on  the  subject ; 
but,  with  the  qualifications  I have  stated,  no  new  discoveries 
have,  I conceive,  thrown  any  just  cloud  upon  the  essential 
principle  of  Christian  charity. 

The  last  method  by  wliich  Christianity  has  laboured  to 
Boften  the  characters  of  men  has  been  by  accustoming  the 
imagination  to  expatiate  continually  upon  images  of  tender- 
ness and  of  pathos.  Our  imaginations,  though  less  influential 
than  our  occupations,  probably  affect  our  moral  characters 
more  deeply  than  our  judgments,  and,  in  the  case  of  the 
poorer  classes  especially,  the  cultivation  of  this  part  of  our 
nature  is  of  inestimable  importance.  Rooted,  for  the  most 
part,  during  them  entire  lives,  to  a single  spot,  excluded  by 
their  ignorance  and  their  circumstances  from  most  of  the 
varieties  of  interest  that  animate  the  minds  of  other  men, 
condemned  to  constant  and  plodding  labour,  and  engrossed 
for  ever  with  the  minute  cares  of  an  immediate  and  an 
anxious  present,  their  whole  natures  would  have  been  hope- 
lessly contracted,  were  there  no  sphere  in  which  their  imagi- 
nations could  expand.  Religion  is  the  one  romance  of  the 
poor.  It  alone  extends  the  narrow  horizon  of  their  thoughts, 
supplies  the  images  of  their  dreams,  allures  them  to  the  super- 
sensual  and  the  ideal.  The  graceful  beings  with  which  the 
creative  fancy  of  Paganism  peopled  the  universe  shed  a poetic 
glow  on  the  peasant’s  toil.  Every  stage  of  agriculture  wan 
presided  over  by  a divinity,  and  the  world  grew  bright  by 
the  companionship  of  the  gods.  But  it  is  the  peculiarity  of 
the  Christian  types,  that,  while  they  have  fascinated  the 
imagination,  they  have  also  purified  the  heart.  The  tender, 
winning,  and  almost  feminine  beauty  of  the  Christian 

indeed  most  political  economists,  who  plunges  into  a career  of  vice, 
greatly  exaggerate  the  forethought  is  in  the  smallest  degree  influenced 
of  men  and  women,  especially  in  by  a consideration  of  whether  or 
matters  where  the  passions  are  eon-  not  charitable  institutions  are  pro- 
eerned.  It  may  be  questioned  vided  for  the  support  of  aged  peni- 
whcther  one  woman  in  a hundred,  tents. 


100 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


Founder,  the  Virgin  mother,  the  agonies  of  Gethsemune  oi 
of  Calvary,  the  many  scenes  of  compassion  and  suffering  that 
fil1  the  sacred  writings,  are  the  pictures  which,  for  eighteen 
hundred  years,  have  governed  the  imaginations  of  the  rudest 
and  most  ignorant  of  mankind.  Associated  with  the  fondest 
recollections  of  childhood,  with  the  music  of  the  church  bells, 
with  the  clustered  lights  and  the  tinsel  splendour,  that  seem 
to  the  peasant  the  very  ideal  of  majesty ; painted  over  the 
altar  where  he  received  the  companion  of  his  life,  around  the 
cemetery  where  so  many  whom  he  had  loved  were  laid,  on 
the  stations  of  the  mountain,  on  the  portal  of  the  vineyard, 
on  the  chapel  where  the  storm-tossed  mariner  fulfils  bis 
grateful  vow  ; keeping  guard  over  his  cottage  door,  and  look- 
ing down  upon  his  humble  bed,  forms  of  tender  beauty  and 
gentle  pathos  for  ever  haunt  the  poor  man’s  fancy,  and 
silently  win  them  way  into  the  very  depths  of  his  being. 
More  than  any  spoken  eloquence,  more  than  any  dogmatic 
teaching,  they  transform  and  subdue  his  character,  till  he 
learns  to  realise  the  sanctity  of  weakness  and  suffering,  the 
supreme  majesty  of  compassion  and  gentleness. 

Imperfect  and  inadequate  as  is  the  sketch  I have  drawn, 
it  will  be  sufficient  to  show  how  great  and  multiform  have 
been  the  influences  of  Christian  philanthropy.  The  shadows 
that  rest  upon  the  picture,  I have  not  concealed  ; but,  when 
all  due  allowance  has  been  made  for  them,  enough  will 
remain  to  claim  our  deepest  admiration.  The  high  concep- 
tion that  has  been  formed  of  the  sanctity  of  human  life,  the 
protection  of  infancy,  the  elevation  and  final  emancipation  of 
(he  slave  classes,  the  suppression  of  barbarous  games,  the 
creation  of  a vast  and  multifarious  organisation  of  charity, 
and  the  education  of  the  imagination  by  the  Christian  type, 
constitute  together  a movement  of  philanthropy  which  has 
never  been  paralleled  or  approached  in  the  Pagan  world.  The 
effects  of  this  movement  in  promoting  happiness  have  been 
very  great.  Its  effect  in  determining  character  has  probably 


FROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CIIARLEMAGNE.  101 


been  still  greater.  In  that  proportion  or  disposition  of 
qualities  which  constitutes  the  ideal  character,  the  gentler 
and  more  benevolent  virtues  have  obtained,  through  Chris- 
tianity, the  foremost  place.  In  the  first  and  purest  period 
tli6y  were  especially  supreme ; but  in  the  third  centuiy  a great 
ascetic  movement  arose,  which  gradually  brought  a new  type 
of  character  into  the  ascendant,  and  diverted  the  enthusiasm 
of  the  Church  into  new  channels. 

Tertullian,  writing  in  the  second  century,  contrasts,  in  a 
well-known  passage,  the  Christians  of  his  day  with  the  gym- 
nosophists  or  hermits  of  India,  declaring  that,  unlike  these, 
the  Christians  did  not  fly  from  the  world,  but  mixed  with 
Pagans  in  the  forum,  in  the  market-places,  in  the  public 
baths,  in  the  ordinary  business  of  life.1  But  although  the 
life  of  the  hermit  or  the  monk  was  unknown  in  the  Church 
for  more  than  two  hundred  years  after  its  foundation,  we 
may  detect,  almost  from  the  earliest  time,  a tone  of  feeling 
which  produces  it.  The  central  conceptions  of  the  monastic 
system  are  the  meritoriousness  of  complete  abstinence  from 
all  sexual  intercourse,  and  of  complete  renunciation  of  the 
world.  The  first  of  these  notions  appeared  in  the  very 
earliest  period,  in  the  respect  attached  to  the  condition  of 
virginity,  which  was  always  regarded  as  sacred,  and  especially 
esteemed  in  the  clergy,  though  for  a long  time  it  was  not 
imposed  as  an  obligation.  The  second  was  shown  in  the 
numerous  efforts  that  were  made  to  separate  the  Christian 
community  as  far  as  possible  from  the  society  in  which  it 
existed.  Nothing  could  be  more  natural  than  that,  when 
the  increase  and  triumph  of  the  Church  had  thrown  the  bulk 
of  the  Christians  into  active  political  or  military  labour, 
some  should,  as  an  exercise  of  piety,  have  endeavoured 
to  imitate  the  separation  from  the  world  which  was  once 


39 


Apol.  eh.  xlii. 


102 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


the  common  condition  of  all.  Besides  this,  a movement  of 
asceticism  had  long  been  raging  like  a mental  epidemic  through 
the  world.  Among  the  Jews — whose  law,  from  the  great 
stress  it  laid  upon  marriage,  the  excellence  of  the  rapid  multi 
plication  of  population,  and  the  hope  of  being  the  ancestor 
of  the  Messiah,  was  peculiarly  repugnant  to  monastic  con- 
ceptions—the  Essenes  had  constituted  a complete  monastic 
society,  abstaining  from  marriage  and  separating  themselves 
wholly  from  the  world.  In  Home,  whose  practical  genius 
was,  if  possible,  even  more  opposed  than  that  of  the  Jews  to 
an  inactive  monasticism,  and  even  among  those  philosophers 
who  most  represented  its  active  and  practical  spirit,  the 
same  tendency  was  shown.  The  Cynics  of  the  later  Empire 
recommended  a complete  renunciation  of  domestic  tics, 
and  a life  spent  mainly  in  the  contemplation  of  wisdom. 
The  Egyptian  philosophy,  that  soon  after  acquired  an  ascend- 
ancy in  Europe,  anticipated  still  more  closely  the  monastic 
ideal.  On  the  outskirts  of  the  Church,  the  many  sects  of 
Gnostics  and  Manicheans  all  held  under  different  forms  the 
essential  evil  of  matter.  The  Docetse,  following  the  same 
notion,  denied  the  reality  of  the  body  of  Christ.  The  Mon- 
tanists  and  the  Novatians  surpassed  and  stimulated  the  pri- 
vate penances  of  the  orthodox. 1 The  soil  was  thus  thorough  !y 
prepared  for  a great  outburst  of  asceticism,  whenever  the  first 
seed  was  sown.  This  was  done  during  the  Decian  persecu- 
tion.  Paul,  the  hermit,  who  fled  to  the  desert  during  that 


* On  these  penances,  see  Bing- 
ham, Antiq.  book  vii.  Bingham, 
I think,  justly  divides  the  history 
of  asceticism  into  three  periods. 
Daring  the  first,  which  extends 
from  the  foundation  of  the  Church 
to  a.d.  250,  there  were  men  and 
women  who,  with  a view  to  spiritual 
perfection,  abstained  from  mar- 
riage, relinquished  amusements, 
accustomed  themselves  to  severe 


fasts,  and  gave  up  their  property 
to  works  of  charity;  but  did  this 
in  the  middle  of  society  and  with- 
out loading  the  life  of  either  a 
hermit  or  a monk.  During  the 
second  period,  which  extended  from 
the  Decian  persecution,  anchorites 
were  numerous,  but  the  custom  of 
a common  or  coenobitic  life  was  un- 
known. It  was  originated  in  the 
time  of  Constantine  by  Pachomiua 


FROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE. 


103 


persecution,  is  said  to  have  been  the  first  of  the  tribe. 
Antony,  who  speedily  followed,  greatly  extended  the  move- 
ment, and  in  a few  years  the  heimits  ha  1 become  a mighty 
nation.  Persecution,  which  in  the  first  instance  drove  great 
numbers  as  fugitives  to  the  deserts,  soon  aroused  a passionate- 
religious  enthusiasm  that  showed  itself  in  an  ardent  desire 
for  those  sufferings  which  were  believed  to  lead  directly  to 
heaven ; and  this  enthusiasm,  after  the  peace  of  Constantine, 
found  its  natural  vent  and  sphere  in  the  macerations  of  the 
desert  life.  The  imaginations  of  men  were  fascinated  by  the 
poetic  circumstances  of  that  life  which  St.  Jerome  most  elo- 
quently embellished.  Women  were  pre-eminent  in  recruit 
ing  for  it.  The  same  spirit  that  had  formerly  led  tbe  wife 
of  the  Pagan  official  to  entertain  secret  relations  with  the 
Christian  priests,  now  led  the  wife  of  the  Christian  to  become 
the  active  agent  of  the  monks.  While  the  father  designed 
his  son  for  the  army,  or  for  some  civil  post,  the  mother 
was  often  straining  every  nerve  to  induce  him  to  become  a 
hermit.  The  monks  secretly  corresponded  with  her,  they 
skilfully  assumed  the  functions  of  education,  in  order  that 
they  might  influence  the  young;  and  sometimes,  to  evade 
the  precautions  or  the  anger  of  the  father,  they  con- 
cealed their  profession,  and  assumed  the  garb  of  lay  peda- 
gogues.2 The  pulpit,  which  had  almost  superseded,  and 
immeasurably  transcended  in  influence,  the  chairs  of  the 
rhetoricians,  and  which  was  filled  by  such  men  as  Ambrose, 
Augustine,  Chrysostom,  Basil,  and  the  Gregories,  was  con- 
tinually exerted  in  the  same  cause,  and  the  extrema 
luxury  of  the  great  cities  produced  a violent,  but  not  un- 
natural , reaction  of  asceticism.  The  dignity  of  the  monastic 
position,  which  sometimes  brought  men  who  had  been  simple 

'This  is  expressly  stated  by  Chrysostom.  St.  Chrysostom  wrote 
St.  J eroine  ( Vit.  Pauli).  a long  work  to  console  fathers  whose 

2 See  on  this  subject  some  curi-  sons  were  thus  seduced  to  the 
ous  evidence  in  Neander’s  Life  of  desert. 


104 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


peasants  into  connection  with  the  emperors,  the  security  it 
furnished  to  fugitive  slaves  and  criminals,  the  desire  of 
escaping  from  those  fiscal  burdens  which,  in  the  corrupt  and 
oppressive  administration  of  the  Empire,  had  acquired  an 
intolerable  weight,  and  especially  the  barbarian  invasions, 
which  produced  every  variety  of  panic  and  wretchedness, 
conspired  with  the  new  religious  teaching  in  peopling  the 
desert.  A theology  of  asceticism  was  speedily  formed.  The 
examples  of  Elijah  and  Elisha,  to  the  first  of  whom,  by  a 
bold  flight  of  imagination,  some  later  Carmelites  ascribed 
the  origin  of  their  order,  and  the  more  recent  instance  of  the 
Baptist,  were  at  once  adduced.  To  an  ordinary  layman  the 
life  of  an  anchorite  might  appear  in  the  highest  degree  opposed 
to  that  of  the  Teacher  who  began  His  mission  at  a marriage 
feast;  who  was  continually  reproached  by  His  enemies  for 
the  readiness  with  which  He  mixed  with  the  world,  and  who 
selected  from  the  female  sex  some  of  His  purest  and  most 
devoted  followers ; but  the  monkish  theologians,  avoiding, 
for  the  most  part,  these  topics,  dilated  chiefly  on  His  immacu- 
late birth,  His  virgin  mother,  His  life  of  celibacy,  His  exhort- 
ation to  the  rich  young  man.  The  fact  that  St.  Peter,  to 
whom  a general  primacy  was  already  ascribed,  was  unques- 
tionably married  was  a difficulty  which  was  in  a measure 
met  by  a tradition  that  both  he,  and  the  other  married 
apostles,  abstained  from  intercourse  with  their  wives  afte1* 
their  conversion.1  St.  Paul,  however,  was  probably  un 
married,  and  his  writings  showed  a decided  preference  for 
the  unmarried  state,  which  the  ingenuity  of  theologians  also 
discovered  in  some  quarters  where  it  might  be  least  expected. 
Thus,  St.  Jerome  assures  us  that  when  the  clean  animals 
entered  the  ark  by  sevens,  and  the  unclean  ones  by  pairs,  the 
odd  number  typified  the  celibate,  and  the  even  the  married 
condition.  Even  of  the  unclean  animals  but  one  pair  of  each 


On  this  tradition  see  Ohampagny,  Lex  Antonins , tome  i.  p.  193. 


FROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE.  105 


kind  was  admitted,  lest  they  should  perpetrate  the  enormity 
of  second  marriage.1  Ecclesiastical  tradition  sustained  tlio 
tendency,  and  St.  James,  as  he  has  been  portrayed  by  Hege- 
sippus,  became  a kind  of  ideal  saint,  a faithful  picture  of 
what,  according  to  the  notions  of  theologians,  was  the  true 
type  of  human  nobility.  He  ‘ was  consecrated,’  it  was  said, 
' from  his  mother’s  womb.  lie  drank  neither  wine  nor  fer- 
mented liquors,  and  abstained  from  animal  food.  A razor 
never  came  upon  his  head.  He  never  anointed  himself  with 
oil,  or  used  a bath.  He  alone  was  allowed  to  enter  the  sanc- 
tuary. He  never  wore  woollen,  but  linen,  garments.  He  was 
in  the  habit  of  entering  the  temple  alone,  and  was  often  found 
upon  his  bended  knees,  and  interceding  for  the  forgiveness  of 
the  people,  so  that  his  knees  became  as  hard  as  a camel’s.’ 2 

The  progress  of  the  monastic  movement,  as  has  been 
truly  said,  ‘ was  not  less  rapid  or  universal  than  that  of 
Christianity  itself.’ 3 Of  the  actual  number  of  the  anchorites, 
those  who  are  acquainted  with  the  extreme  unveracity  of  the 
first  historians  of  the  movement  will  hesitate  to  speak  with 
confidence.  It  is  said  that  St.  Pachomius,  who,  early  in  the 
fourth  century,  founded  the  coenobitic  mode  of  life,  enlisted 
under  his  jurisdiction  7,000  monies;4  that  in  the  days  of  St. 
Jerome  nearly  50,000  monks  were  sometimes  assembled  at 
the  Easter  festivals  ;5  that  in  the  desert  of  Hitria  alone  there 
were,  in  the  fourth  century,  5,000  monks  under  a singlo 
abbot ; 6 that  an  Egyptian  city  named  Oxyrynchus  devoted  it- 
self almost  exclusively  to  the  ascetic  life,  and  included  20,000 
virgins  and  10,000  monks;7  that  St.  Serapion  presided  over 
1 0,000  monks ; 8 and  that,  towards  the  close  of  the  fourth 
century,  the  monastic  population  in  a great  part  of  Egypt 

1 Ep.  cxxiii.  5 Jerome,  Preface  to  the  Hula 

2 Euseb.  Ecel.  Hist.  ii.  23.  of  St.  Pachomius,  § 7- 

3 Gibbon,  Decline  and  Fall , ch.  a Cassian,  De  Ccenob.  Inst.  iv.  1 , 

xvxvii.;  nbrief  but  masterly  sketch  7 Rufinus,  Hist.  Monach.  ch.  v. 

ol  the  progress  of  the  movement.  Rufinus  visited  it  himself. 

1 Palladius  Hist.  Laus.  xxxviii.  8 Palladius,  Hist.  Laus.  lxxvi. 


106 


HISTOBY  OF  EUBOPEAN  MOBALS. 


was  nearly  equal  to  the  population  of  the  cities.1  Egypt 
was  the  parent  of  monachism,  and  it  was  there  that  it  attained 
both  its  extreme  development  and  its  most  austere  severity ; 
but  there  was  very  soon  scarcely  any  Christian  country  in 
which  a similar  movement  was  not  ardently  propagated.  St. 
A thanasius  and  St.  Zeno  are  said  to  have  introduced  it  into 
Italy,2  where  it  soon  afterwards  received  a great  stimulus 
from  St.  Jerome.  St.  Hilarion  instituted  the  first  monks  in 
Palestine,  and  he  lived  to  see  many  thousands  subject  to  his 
rule,  and  towards  the  close  of  his  life  to  plant  monachism  in 
Cyprus.  Eustathius,  Bishop  of  Sebastia,  spread  it  through 
Armenia,  Paphlagonia,  and  Pontus.  St.  Basil  laboured 
along  the  wild  shores  of  the  Euxine.  St.  Martin  of  Tours 
founded  the  first  monastery  in  Gaul,  and  2,000  monks  at- 
tended his  funeral.  Unrecorded  missionaries  planted  the 
new  institution  in  the  heart  of  /Ethiopia,  amid  the  little 
islands  that  stud  the  Mediterranean,  in  the  secluded  valleys 
of  Wales  and  Ireland.3  But  even  more  wonderful  than  the 
many  thousands  who  thus  abandoned  the  world  is  the  rever- 
ence with  which  they  were  regarded  by  those  who,  by  their 
attainments  or  their  character,  would  seem  most  opposed  to 
the  monastic  ideal.  No  one  had  more  reason  than  Augustine 
to  know  the  danger  of  enforced  celibacy,  but  St.  Augustine 
exerted  all  his  energies  to  spread  monasticism  through  his 
diocese.  St.  Ambrose,  who  was  by  nature  an  acute  states- 
man ; St.  Jerome  and  St.  Basil,  who  were  ambitious  scholars ; 

1 Tin  firms,  Hist.  Mon.  vii.  tion  about  monachism.  A curious 

2 There  is  a good  deal  of  doubt  collection  of  statistics  of  the  num- 
and  controversy  about  this.  See  a bers  of  the  monks  in  different 
note  in  Mosheim’s  Eccl.  Hist,  localities,  additional  to  those  I 
iSoame’s  edition),  vol.  i.  p.  354.  have  given  and  gleaned  from  the 

^Mostofthepassagesremaining  Lives  of  the  Saints,  may  be  found 
on  the  subject  of  tho  foundation  of  in  Pitra  ( Vie  de  St.  Leger,  Introd. 
monachism  are  given  by  Thomas-  p.  lix.) ; 2,100,  or,  according  to 
6in,  Discipline  de  Vfcglisc,  part  i.  another  account,  3,000  monks, lived 
livre  iii.  ch.  xii.  This  work  con-  in  the  monastery  of  Banclior. 
tains  also  much  general  informa- 


FROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE.  107 


St.  Chrysostom,  who  was  pre-eminently  formed  to  sway  the 
refined  throngs  of  a metropolis — all  exerted  their  powers  in 
favour  of  the  life  of  solitude,  and  the  last  three  practised  ib 
themselves.  St.  Arsenius,  who  was  surpassed  by  no  one  in 
the  extravagance  of  his  penances,  had  held  a high  office  at 
the  court  of  the  Emperor  Arcadius.  Pilgrims  wandered 
among  the  deserts,  collecting  accounts  of  the  miracles  and 
the  austerities  of  the  saints,  which  filled  Christendom  with 
admiration;  and  the  strange  biographies  which  were  thus 
formed,  wild  and  grotesque  as  they  are,  enable  us  to  realise 
very  vividly  the  general  features  of  the  anchorite  life  which 
became  the  new  ideal  of  the  Christian  world.1 

There  is,  perhaps,  no  phase  in  the  moral  history  of  man- 
kind of  a deeper  or  more  painful  interest  than  this  ascetic 
epidemic.  A hideous,  sordid,  and  emaciated  maniac,  without 
knowledge,  without  patriotism,  without  natural  affection, 
passing  his  life  in  a long  routine  of  useless  and  atrocious 
self-torture,  and  quailing  before  the  ghastly  phantoms  of  his 
delirious  brain,  had  become  the  ideal'  of  the  nations  which 
had  known  the  writings  of  Plato  and  Cicero  and  the  lives  of 
Socrates  and  Cato.  For  about  two  centuries,  the  hideous 
maceration  of  the  body  was  regarded  as  the  highest  proof  of 
excellence.  St.  Jerome  declares,  with  a thrill  of  admiration, 


1 The  three  principal  are  the 
Historia  Monackorum  of  Rufinus, 
who  visited  Egypt  a.d.  373,  about 
seventeen  years  after  the  death  of 
St.  Antony ; the  Institutiones  of 
Oassian,  who,  having  visited  the 
Eastern  monks  about  a.d.  391. 
founded  vast  monasteries  contain- 
ing, it  is  said,  5,000  monks,  at 
Marseilles,  and  died  at  a great  age 
about  a.d.  118;  and  the  Historia 
Lausiaca  (so  called  from  Lausus, 
Governor  of  Cappadocia)  of  Pal- 
ladius,  who  was  himself  a hermit 
on  Mount  Nitria,  in  a.d.  388.  The 


first  and  last,  as  well  as  many 
minor  works  of  the  same  period, 
are  given  in  Rosweyde’s  invaluable 
collection  of  the  lives  of  the  Fa- 
thers, one  of  the  most  fascinating 
volumes  in  the  whole  range  ol 
literature. 

The  hospitality  of  the  monks 
was  not  without  drawbacks.  In  a 
church  on  Mount  Nitria  throe 
whips  were  hung  on  a palm-tree — 
one  for  chastising  monks,  another 
for  chastising  thieves,  and  a third 
for  chastising  guests.  (Palladius, 
Hist.  Laics,  vii.) 


108 


HISTORY  OR  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


how  ho  had  seen  a monk,  who  for  thirty  years  had  lived 
exclusively  on  a small  portion  of  barley  bread  and  of  muddy 
water ; another,  who  lived  in  a hole  and  never  ate  more  than 
five  ligs  for  Ins  daily  repast ; 1 a third,  who  cut  his  hair  only 
on  Easter  Sunday,  who  never  washed  his  clothes,  who  never 
changed  his  tunic  till  it  fell  to  pieces,  who  starved  himself 
till  his  eyes  grew  dim,  and  his  skin  ‘ like  a pumice  stone,’ 
and  whose  merits,  shown  by  these  austerities,  Homer  himself 
would  be  unable  to  recount.2  For  six  months,  it  is  said, 
St.  Macarius  of  Alexandria  slept  in  a marsh,  and  exposed  his 
body  naked  to  the  stings  of  venomous  flies.  He  was  ac- 
customed to  carry  about  with  him  eighty  pounds  of  iron. 
His  disciple,  St.  Eusebius,  carried  one  hundred  and  fifty 
pounds  of  iron,  and  lived  for  three  years  in  a dried-up  well. 
St.  Sabinus  would  only  eat  corn  that  had  become  rotten 
by  remaining  for  a month  in  water.  St.  Besarion  spent 
forty  days  and  nights  in  the  middle  of  thorn-bushes,  and  for 
forty  years  never  lay  down  when  he  slept,3  which  last  penance 
was  also  during  fifteen  years  practised  by  St.  Pachomius.4 
Some  saints,  like  St.  Marcian,  restricted  themselves  to  one 
meal  a day,  so  small  that  they  continually  suffered  the  pangs 
of  hunger.5  Of  one  of  them  it  is  related  that  his  daily  food 
was  six  ounces  of  bread  and  a few  herbs ; that  he  was  never 
seen  to  recline  on  a mat  or  bed,  or  even  to  place  his  limbs 
easily  for  sleep ; but  that  sometimes,  from  excess  of  weari- 
ness, his  eyes  would  close  at  his  meals,  and  the  food  would 
drop  from  his  mouth.6  Other  saints,  however,  ate  only 
every  second  day ; 7 while  many,  if  we  could  believe  the 

1 Vita  Pauli.  St.  Jerome  adds,  servir  a l’ Hist,  eccles.  tome  viii. 
that  some  will  not  believe  this,  4 Vita  Patrum (Pachomius).  He 
because  they  have  no  faith,  but  used  to  lean  against  a wall  when 
that  all  things  are  possible  fjr  overcome  by  drowsiness. 

thoso  that  believe.  6 Vita  Patrum,  ix.  3. 

2 Vita  St.  Hilarion.  6 Sozomen,  vi.  29. 

s See  a long  list  of  these  pen-  7 E.g.  St.  Antony,  according  to 

tnces  in  Tillomont,  Mem.  pour  his  biographer  St.  Athanasius. 


FROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE.  109 


monkish  historian,  abstained  for  whole  weeks  from  all 
nourishment.1  St.  Macarius  of  Alexandria  is  said  during 
an  entire  week  to  have  never  lain  down,  or  eaten  any- 
thing but  a few  uncooked  herbs  on  Sunday.2  Of  another 
famous  saint,  named  John,  it  is  asserted  that  for  threo 
v hole  years  he  stood  in  prayer,  leaning  upon  a rock  ■ that 
during  all  that  time  he  never  sat  or  lay  down,  and  that 
his  only  nourishment  was  the  Sacrament,  which  was  brought 
him  on  Sundays.3  Some  of  the  hermits  lived  in  deserted 
dens  of  wild  beasts,  others  in  dried-up  wells,  while  others 
found  a congenial  resting-place  among  the  tombs.4  Some 
disdained  all  clothes,  and  crawled  abroad  like  the  wild  beasts, 
covered  only  by  their  matted  ham.  In  Mesopotamia,  and 
part  of  Syria,  there  existed  a sect  known  by  the  name  of 
‘ Grazers,’  who  never  lived  under  a roof,  who  ate  neither 
flesh  nor  bread,  but  who  spent  their  time  for  ever  on  the 
mountain  side,  and  ate  grass  like  cattle.5  The  cleanliness 
of  the  body  was  regarded  as  a pollution  of  the  soul,  and 
the  saints  who  were  most  admired  had  become  one  hideous 
mass  of  clotted  filth.  St.  Athanasius  relates  with  enthu- 


1 1 II  y eut  dans  le  desert  de 
Scet6  des  solitaires  d’une  5minente 
perfection.  ...  On  pretend  que 
pour  l’ordinaire  ils  passoient  des 
semaines  entieres  sans  manger, 
mais  apparemment  cela  ne  se  fai- 
soit  que  dans  des  occasions  parti- 
culieres.’ — Tillemont,  Mem.  your 
seruir  a VHist.  eccl.  tome  viii.  p. 
580.  Even  this,  however,  was  ad- 
mirable ! 

2 Palladius,  Hist.  Lnus.  cap.  xx. 

3 ‘ Primum  cum  accessisset  ad 
eremum  tribus  continuis  annis  sub 
eujusdam  saxi  rupe  stans,  semper 
oravit,  ita  ut  nunquam  omnino  re- 
oederit  neque  Jacuerit.  Somni  au- 

tem  tantum  caperet,  quantum  stans 
capere  potuit ; cibum  vero  nun- 

quam sumpserat  nisi  die  Dominica. 


Presbyter  enim  tunc  veniebat  ad 
cum  et  offcrebat  pro  eo  sacrificium 
idque  ei  solum  sacramentum  erat 
et  rictus.' — Itufinus,  Hist.  Monach. 
cap.  xv. 

4 Thus  St.  Antony  used  to  live 
in  a tomb,  where  he  was  beaten  by 
the  devil.  (St.  Athanasius,  Life  of 
Antony.') 

5 fioa-Kot.  See  on  these  monLa 
Sozomen,  vi.  33  ; Evagrius,  i.  21. 
It  is  mentioned  of  a certain  St. 
Marc  of  Athens,  that,  having  lived 
for  thirty  years  naked  in  the  do 
sert,  his  body  was  covered  with 
hair  like  that  of  a wild  beast. 
(Bollandists,  March  29.)  St.  Mary 
of  Egypt,  during  part  of  her  period 
of  penance,  lived  upon  grass 
(Vita  Patrum.) 


110 


HISTORY  OP  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


Biasm  how  St.  Antony,  the  patriarch  of  monachism,  hat) 
never,  to  exti  erne  old  age,  been  guilty  of  washing  his  feet.1 
The  less  constant  St.  Pcemen  fell  into  this  habit  for  tho 
first  time  when  a very  old  man,  and,  with  a glimmering  of 
common  sense,  defended  himself  against  the  astonished  monks 
by  saying  that  he  had  ‘ learnt  to  kill  not  his  body,  but  his 
passions.’ 2 St.  Abraham  the  hermit,  however,  who  lived 
for  fifty  years  after  his  conversion,  rigidly  refused  from  that 
date  to  wash  either  his  face  or  his  feet.3  He  was,  it  is  said, 
a person  of  singular  beauty,  and  his  biographer  somewhat 
strangely  remarks  that  ‘ his  face  reflected  the  purity  of  hia 
soul.’4  St.  Ammon  had  never  seen  himself  naked.5  A 
famous  virgin  named  Silvia,  though  she  was  sixty  years  old 
and  though  bodily  sickness  was  a consequence  of  her  habits, 
resolutely  refused,  on  religious  principles,  to  wash  any  part 
of  her  body  except  her  fingers.0  St.  Euphraxia  joined  a con- 
vent of  one  hundred  and  thirty  nuns,  who  never  washed 
their  feet,  and  who  shuddered  at  the  mention  of  a bath.7  An 
anchorite  once  imagined  that  he  was  mocked  by  an  illusion 
of  the  devil,  as  he  saw  gliding  before  him  through  the  desert 
a naked  creature  black  with  filth  and  years  of  exposure,  and 
with  white  hair  floating  to  the  wind.  It  was  a once  beautiful 
woman,  St.  Mary  of  Egypt,  who  had  thus,  during  forty-seven 


1 L\fe  of  Antony. 

2 ‘II  no  faisoit  pas  aussi  diffi- 
culty dins  sa  vieillesse  do  se  layer 
quelquefois  les  piez.  Et  comme  on 
temoignoit  s’en  etonner  et  trouver 
que  eela  no  r£pondoit  pas  a la  vie 
austere  des  ancions,  il  se  justifioit 
par  ces  paroles : Nous  avons  appi'is 
a tuer,  non  pas  notre  corps  mais 
nos  passions.' — Tillemont,  Mem. 
H'st.  cecl.  torno  xv.  p.  148.  This 
saint  was  so  very  virtuous,  that 
he  sometimes  remained  without 
sating  for  whole  weeks. 

3  ‘ Non  appropinquavit  oleum 

corpusculo  ejus.  Facies  vel  etiam 


pedes  a die  conversions  sum  nun- 
quam  diluti  sunt  .’—Vita  Patrnm, 
c.  xvii. 

4 ‘ In  facie  ejus  puritas  animi 
noscebatur.’ — Ibid.  c.  xviii. 

5 Socrates,  iv.  23. 

6 Heraclidis  Paradisus  (Roa- 
weyde),  c.  xlii. 

7 ‘Nulla  earum  pedes  suos  ablue- 
bat ; aliquantse  vero  audientes  de 
balneo  loqui,  irridentes,  confusio- 
nem  et  magnam  abominationem  se 
audire  judicabant,  quae  neque  audi- 
tum  suum  hoc  audire  patiebantur.1 
— Vit.  S.  Euphrax.  c.  vi.  (Role 
weyde.) 


FROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE. 


Ill 


years,  been  expiating  her  sins.1  The  occasional  decadence 
of  the  monks  into  habits  of  decency  was  a subject  of  much 
reproach.  ‘ Our  fathers,’  said  the  abbot  Alexander,  looking 
mournfully  back  to  the  past,  ‘ never  washed  their  faces,  but 
we  frequent  the  public  baths.’2  It  was  related  of  one  mo- 
nastery in  the  desert,  that  the  monks  suffered  greatly  from 
want  of  water  to  drink ; but  at  the  prayer  of  the  abbot 
Theodosius  a copious  stream  was  produced.  But  soon  some 
monks,  tempted  by  the  abundant  supply,  diverged  from  their 
old  austerity,  and  persuaded  the  abbot  to  avail  himself  of 
the  stream  for  the  construction  of  a bath.  The  bath  was 
made.  Once,  and  once  only,  did  the  monks  enjoy  their 
ablutions,  when  the  stream  ceased  to  flow.  Prayers,  tears, 
and  fastings  were  in  vain.  A whole  year  passed.  At  last 
the  abbot  destroyed  the  bath,  which  was  the  object  of  the 
Divine  displeasure,  and  the  waters  flowed  afresh.3  But  of 
all  the  evidences  of  the  loathsome  excesses  to  which  this 
spirit  was  carried,  the  life  of  St.  Simeon  Stylites  is  probably 
the  most  remarkable.  It  would  be  difficult  to  conceive  a 
more  horrible  or  disgusting  picture  than  is  given  of  the 
penances  by  which  that  saint  commenced  his  ascetic  career. 
He  had  bound  a rope  around  him  so  that  it  became  im- 


1 See  her  acts,  Bollandists,  April 
2,  and  in  the  Vita  Patrum. 

2 ‘ Pafres  nostri  nunquam  facies 
suas  lavabant,  nos  autem  lavacra 
publica  balneaque  frequentamus.’ 
— Mosehus,  Pratum  Spiritualc, 
clxviii. 

3 Pratum  Spirituale,  Ixxx. 

An  Irish  saint,  named  Coem- 
genus,  is  said  to  have  shown  his 
devotion  in  a way  which  was  di- 
rectly opposite  to  that  of  the  other 
saints  I have  mentioned — by  his 
special  use  of  cold  water — but  the 
prin  ,iple  in  each  case  was  the  same 
—to  mortify  nature,  irft.  Cocm- 


genus  was  accustomed  to  pray  for 
an  hour  every  night  in  a pool  of 
cold  water,  while  the  devil  sent  a 
horrible  beast  to  swim  round  him. 
An  angel,  ho-wever,  was  sent,  to  him 
for  three  purposes.  ‘ Tribus  de 
causis  a Domino  missus  estangelus 
ibi  ad  S.  Coemgenum.  Prima  ut  a 
diversis  suis  gravibus  laboribus 
levius  viveret  panlisper  ; secunda 
ut  horridam  bestiam  sancto  infes- 
tam  repelleret;  tertia  ut  frigidi- 
tatem  aqua  calcfaceret.’ — Bolland- 
ists, June  3.  The  editors  say  these 
acts  are  of  doubtful  authenticity. 


112 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


heckled  in  his  flesh,  which  putrefied  around  it.  ‘ A horrible 
stench,  intolerable  to  the  bystanders,  exhaled  from  his  body, 
and  worms  dropped  from  him  whenever  he  moved,  and  they 
filled  his  bed.  Sometimes  he  left  the  monastery  and  slept  in 
a dry  well,  inhabited,  it  is  said,  by  daemons.  He  built  suc- 
cessively three  pillars,  the  last  being  sixty  feet  high  and 
scarcely  two  cubits  in  circumference,  and  on  this  pillar, 
during  thirty  years,  he  remained  exposed  to  every  change  of 
climate,  ceaselessly  and  rapidly  bending  his  body  in  prayer 
almost  to  the  level  of  his  feet.  A spectator  attempted  to 
number  these  rapid  motions,  but  desisted  from  weariness 
when  he  had  counted  1,244.  For  a whole  year,  we  are  told, 
St.  Simeon  stood  upon  one  leg,  the  other  being  covered  with 
hideous  ulcers,  while  his  biographer  was  commissioned  to 
stand  by  his  side,  to  pick  up  the  worms  that  fell  from  his 
body,  and  to  replace  them  in  the  sores,  the  saint  saying  to 
the  worm,  ‘ Eat  what  God.  has  given  you.’  From  every 
quarter  pilgrims  of  every  degree  thronged  to  do  him  homage. 
A crowd  of  prelates  followed  him  to  the  grave.  A brilliant 
star  is  said  to  have  shone  miraculously  over  his  pillar ; the 
general  voice  of  mankind  pronounced  him  to  be  the  highest 
model  of  a Christian  saint ; and  several  other  anchorites  imi- 
tated or  emulated  his  penances.1 

There  is,  if  I mistake  not,  no  department  of  literature  the 
importance  of  which  is  more  inadequately  realised  than  the 
lives  of  the  saints.  Even  where  they  have  no  direct  histori- 
cal value,  they  have  a moral  value  of  the  very  highest  order. 
They  may  not  tell  us  with  accuracy  what  men  did  at  parti- 
cular epochs  ; but  they  display  with  the  utmost  vividness 
what  they  thought  and  felt,  their  measure  of  probability,  and 
their  ideal  of  excellence.  Decrees  of  councils,  elaborate  trea- 
tises of  theologians,  creeds,  liturgies,  and  canons,  are  all  but 


• See  his  Life  by  his  disciple  grins,  i.  1 3,  14.  Theodoret,  Philo 
Antony,  in  the  Vita  Patrum,  Eva-  thcos,  cap.  xxvi. 


FROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE. 


113 


the  husks  of  religious  history.  They  reveal  what  was  pro- 
fessed and  argued  before  the  world,  but  not  that  which  was 
realised  in  the  imagination  or  enshrined  in  the  heart.  The 
history  of  art,  which  in  its  ruder  day  reflected  with  delicate 
fidelity  the  fleeting  images  of  an  anthropomorphic  age,  is  in 
this  respect  invaluable ; but  still  more  important  is  that  vast 
Christian  mythology,  wliich  grew  up  spontaneously  from  the 
intellectual  condition  of  the  time,  included  all  its  dearest 
hopes,  wishes,  ideals,  and  imaginings,  and  constituted,  during 
many  centuries,  the  popular  literature  of  Christendom.  In 
the  case  of  the  saints  of  the  deserts,  there  can  be  no  question 
that  the  picture — which  is  drawn  chiefly  by  eye-witnesses  — 
however  grotesque  may  be  some  of  its  details,  is  in  its  leading 
features  historically  true.  It  is  true  that  self-torture  was  for 
some  centuries  regarded  as  the  chief  measure  of  human  ex 
cellence,  that  tens  of  thousands  of  the  most  devoted  men  fled 
to  the  desert  to  reduce  themselves  by  maceration  nearly  to  the 
condition  of  the  brute,  and  that  this  odious  superstition  had 
acquired  an  almost  absolute  ascendancy  in  the  ethics  of  the  age. 
The  examples  of  asceticism  I have  cited  are  but  a few  out  of 
many  hundreds,  and  volumes  might  be  written,  and  have  been 
written,  detailing  them.  Till  the  reform  of  St.  Benedict,  the 
ideal  was  on  the  whole  unchanged.  - The  Western  monks,  from 
the  conditions  of  their  climate,  were  constitutionally  incapable 
of  rivalling  the  abstinence  of  the  Egyptian  anchorites  ; but 
them  conception  of  supreme  excellence  was  much  the  same, 
and  they  laboured  to  compensate  for  their  inferiority  in 
penances  by  claiming  some  superiority  in  miracles.  From 
the  time  of  St.  Pachomius,  the  ccenobitic  life  was  adopted  by 
most  monks ; but  the  Eastern  monasteries,  with  the  impor- 
tant exception  of  a vow  of  obedience,  differed  b'ttle  from  a 
collection  of  hermitages.  They  were  in  the  deserts ; the  monks 
commonly  lived  in  separate  cells ; they  kept  silence  at  their 
repasts;  they  rivalled  one  another  in  the  extravagance  of 
their  penances.  A few  feeble  efforts  were  indeed  made  by 


114: 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


St.  Jerome  and  others  to  moderate  austerities,  which  fre- 
quently led  to  insanity  and  suicide,  to  check  the  turbulence 
of  certain  wandering  monks,  who  were  accustomed  to  defy 
the  ecclesiastical  authorities,  and  especially  to  suppress  mo- 
nastic mendicancy,  which  had  appeared  prominently  among 
■iome  heretical  sects.  The  orthodox  monks  commonly  em- 
ployed themselves  in  weaving  mats  of  palm-leaves ; but, 
living  in  the  deserts,  with  no  wants,  they  speedily  sank  into 
a listless  apathy ; and  the  most  admired  were  those  who, 
like  Simeon  Stylites,  and  the  hermit  John,  of  whom  I have 
already  spoken,  were  most  exclusively  devoted  to  their  super- 
stition. Diversities  of  individual  character  were,  however, 
vividly  displayed.  Many  anchorites,  without  knowledge, 
passions,  or  imagination,  having  fled  from  servile  toil  to  the 
calm  of  the  wilderness,  passed  the  long  hours  in  sleep  or  in  a 
mechanical  routine  of  prayer,  and  their  inert  and  languid 
existences,  prolonged  to  the  extreme  of  old  age,  closed  at  last 
by  a tranquil  and  almost  animal  death.  Others  made  their 
cells  by  the  clear  fountains  and  clustering  palm-trees  of  some 
oasis  in  the  desert,  and  a blooming  garden  arose  beneath  their 
toil.  The  numerous  monks  who  followed  St.  Serapion  de- 
voted themselves  largely  to  agriculture,  and  sent  shiploads  of 
corn  for  the  benefit  of  the  poor.1  Of  one  old  hermit  it  is 
related  that,  such  was  the  cheerfulness  of  his  mind,  that 
every  sorrow  was  dispelled  by  his  presence,  and  the  weary 
and  the  heartbroken  were  consoled  by  a few  words  from  his 
lips.2  More  commonly,  however,  the  hermit’s  cell  was  the 
scene  of  perpetual  mourning.  Tears  and  sobs,  and  frantic 
stragglings  with  imaginary  daemons,  and  paroxysms  of  reli- 
gious despair,  were  the  texture  of  his  life,  and  the  dread  ol 
spiritual  enemies,  and  of  that  death  which  his  superstition 
had  rendered  so  terrible,  embittered  every  hour  of  his  exist- 
ence.3 The  solace  of  intellectual  occupations  was  rarely 


1 Palladius.  Hist.  Laus.  lxxvi.  3 Wc  have  a striking  illustra- 

* Rufinus,  Hist.  Monach,  xxxiii.  tion  of  this  in  St.  Arsenius.  Hu 


FROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE. 


115 


resorted  to  ‘ The  duty,’  said  St.  Jerome,  ‘ of  a monk  is  not  to 
teach,  hut  to  weep.’ 1 A cultivated  and  disciplined  mind  was 
the  least  subject  to  those  hallucinations,  which  were  regarded 
as  the  highest  evidence  of  Divine  favour ; 2 and  although 
in  an  age  when  the  passion  for  asceticism  was  general,  many 
scholars  became  ascetics,  the  great  majority  of  the  early  monks 
appear  to  have  been  men  who  were  not  only  absolutely 
ignorant  themselves,  but  who  also  looked  upon  learning  with 
positive  disfavour.  St.  Antony,  the  true  founder  of  mona- 
chism,  refused  when  a boy  to  learn  letters,  because  it  would 
bring  him  into  too  great  intercourse  with  other  boys.3  At  a 
time  when  St.  Jerome  had  suffered  himself  to  feel  a deep  ad- 
miration for  the  genius  of  Cicero,  he  was,  as  be  himself  tells 
us,  borne  in  the  night  before  the  tribunal  of  Christ,  accused 
of  being  rather  a Ciceronian  than  a Christian,  and  severely 
flagellated  by  the  angels.4  This  saint,  however,  afterwards 
modified  his  opinions  about  the  Pagan  writings,  and  he  was 


eyelashes  are  said  to  have  fallen 
off  through  continual  weeping, 
Rnd  he  had  always,  when  at  work, 
to  put  a cloth  on  his  breast  to 
receive  his  tears.  As  he  felt  his 
death  approaching,  liis  terror  rose 
to  the  point  of  agony.  The  monks 
who  were  about  him  said,  ‘“Quid 
ties,  pater?  numquid  ettu  times?” 
Ille  respond.it,  “ In  veritate  timeo 
et  iste  timor  qui  nunc  mecum  est, 
semper  in  me  fuit,  ex  quo  factus 
sum  monachus.  ” ’ — Verba  Scnio- 
rum,  Prol.  § 163.  It  was  said  of. 
St.  Abralram  that  no  day  passed 
after  his  conversion  without  his 
shedding  tears.  ( Vit.  Patrurn.) 
St.  John  the  dwarf  once  saw  a 
monk  laughing  immoderately  at 
dinner,  and  was  so  horrified  that 
he  at  once  began  to  cry.  (Tille- 
tnont,  Mem.  de  l’ Hist,  eccles.  tome 
x.  p.  430.)  St.  Basil  (Ttegulce , in- 
terrog.  xvii.)  gives  a remarkable 


disquisition  on  the  wickedness  of 
laughing,  and  he  observes  that  this 
was  the  one  bodily  affection  which 
Christ  does  not  seem  to  have 
known.  Mr.  Buckle  has  collected 
a series  of  passages  to  precisely  the 
same  effect  from  the  writings  of 
the  Scotch  divines.  (Hist,  of  Civili- 
sation, vol.  ii.  pp.  385-386.) 

1 ‘ Monachus  autem  non  doctoris 
habet  sed  plangent  is  officium.’ — 
Cvntr.  Vigilant,  xv. 

2 As  Tdlemont  puts  it:  ‘II  se 
trouva  tres-peu  de  saints  en  qui 
l)ieu  ait  joint  les  talens  exterieurs 
de  l’eloquence  et  de  la  science  avec 
la  giAce  de  la  prophetic  et  des 
miracles.  Ce  sont  des  dons  que  sa 
Providence  a presque  toujonrs 
separes.’ — Mem,  Hist,  cccles.  tome 
iv.  p.  315 

3 St.  Athanasius,  Vit.  Anton. 

4 Ep.  xxii.  lie  says  his  shoul- 
ders wore  bruised  when  he  awoke, 


11G 


IIISTORT  OF  EUROPEAN"  MORALS. 


compelled  to  defend  himself  at  length  against  his  more  jealous 
brethren,  who  accused  him  of  defiling  his  writings  with  quo- 
tations from  Pagan  authors,  of  employing  some  monks  in 
copying  Cicero,  and  of  explaining  Virgil  to  some  children  at 
Bethlehem.1  Of  one  monk  it  is  related  that,  being  especially 
famous  as  a linguist,  he  made  it  his  penance  to  remain  per- 
fectly silent  for  thirty  years ; 2 of  another,  that  having 
discovered  a few  books  in  the  cell  of  a brother  hermit,  ho 
reproached  the  student  with  having  thus  defrauded  of  their 
property  the  widow  and  the  orphan;3  of  others,  that  their 
only  books  were  copies  of  the  New  Testament,  which  they 
sold  to  relieve  the  poor.4 

With  such  men,  living  such  a life,  visions  and  miracles 
were  necessarily  habitual.  All  the  elements  of  hallucination 
were  there.  Ignorant  and  superstitious,  believing  as  a matter 
of  religious  conviction  that  countless  daemons  filled  the  air, 
attributing  every  fluctuation  of  his  temperament,  and  every 
exceptional  phenomenon  in  surrounding  nature,  to  spiritual 
agency ; delirious,  too,  from  solitude  and  long  continued  aus- 
terities, the  hermit  soon  mistook  for  palpable  realities  the 
phantoms  of  his  brain.  In  the  ghastly  gloom  of  the  sepul- 
chre, where,  amid  mouldering  corpses,  he  took  up  his  abode ; 
in  the  long  hours  of  the  night  of  penance,  when  the  desert 
wind  sobbed  around  his  lonely  cell,  and  the  cries  of  wild 

1 Ep.  lxx. ; Adv.  Eujinum,  lib.  psalm.  Having  learnt  the  single 
i.  ch.  xxx.  He  there  speaks  of  his  verse,  ‘I  said  I will  take  heed  to 
vision  as  a mere  dream,  not  bind-  my  ways,  that  I offend  not  with  my 
ing.  He  elsewhere  (Ep.  exxv.)  ■ tongue,’  ho  went  away,  saying  that 
speaks  very  sensibly  of  the  advan-  was  enough  if  it  were  practically 
tage  of  hermits  occupying  them-  acquired.  When  asked,  six  months, 
selves,  and  says  he  learnt  Hebrew  and  again  many  years,  after,  why 
to  keep  away  unholy  thoughts.  lie  did  not  come  to  learn  another 

2 Sozomen,  vi.  28 ; Rufinus,  verse,  he  answered  that  he  had 
Hist.  Monach.  ch.  vi.  Socrates  never  been  able  truly  to  master 
tells  rather  a touching  story  of  one  this.  (H.  E.  iv.  23.) 

of  these  illiterate  saints,  named  3 Tillemont,  x.  p.  61. 

Pambos.  Being  unable  to  read,  he  '•Ibid.  viii.  490;  Socratos,  B 

came  to  some  one  to  be  taught  a E.  iv.  23. 


FROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE. 


117 


osasts  were  borne  upon  his  ear,  ~*isible  forms  of  lust  or  terror 
appeared  to  haunt  him,  and  strange  dramas  were  enacted  by 
those  who  were  contending  for  Iris  soul.  An  imagination 
strained  to  the  utmost  limit,  acting  upon  a frame  attenuated 
and  diseased  by  macerations,  produced  bewildering  psycho- 
logical phenomena,  paroxysms  of  conflicting  passions,  sudden 
alternations  of  joy  and  anguish,  which  he  regarded  as  mani- 
festly supernatural.  Sometimes,  in  the  very  ecstasy  of  his 
devotion,  the  memory  of  old  scenes  would  crowd  upon  his 
mind.  The  shady  groves  and  soft  voluptuous  gardens  of  his 
native  city  would  arise,  and,  kneeling  alone  upon  the  burning 
sand,  he  seemed  to  see  around  him  the  fail’  groups  of  dancing- 
girls,  on  whose  warm,  undulating  limbs  and  wanton  smiles 
his  youthful  eyes  had  too  fondly  dwelt.  Sometimes  his  temp- 
tation sprang  from  remembered  sounds.  The  sweet,  licen- 
tious songs  of  other  days  came  floating  on  his  ear,  and  his 
heart  was  thrilled  with  the  passions  of  the  past.  And  then 
the  scene  would  change.  As  his  lips  were  murmuring  the 
psalter,  his  imagination,  fired  perhaps  by  the  music  of  some 
martial  psalm,  depicted  the  crowded  amphitheatre.  The 
throng  and  passion  and  mingled  ciies  of  eager  thousands  were 
present  to  his  mind,  and  the  fierce  joy  of  the  gladiators 
passed  through  the  tumult  of  Ms  dream.1  The  simplest  in- 
cident came  at  last  to  suggest  diabolical  influence.  An  old 
hermit,  weary  and  fainting  upon  his  journey,  once  thought 
bow  refreshing  would  be  a draught  of  the  honey  of  wild  bees 

1 Ihave  combined  in  this  passage  songs  she  had  sung  when  young, 
incidonts  from  three  distinct  lives,  which  continually  haunted  her 
St.  Jerome,  in  a very  famous  and  mind.  St.  Hilarion  (see  liis  Life 
very  beautiful  passage  of  his  letter  by  St.  Jerome)  thought  he  saw  a 
to  Eustoehium  (Ep.  xxii.)  describes  gladiatorial  show  while  he  was  re- 
the  manner  in  which  the  forms  of  peating  the  psalms.  The  manner 
dancing-girls  appeared  to  surround  in  which  the  different  visions  faded 
him  as  he  knelt  upon  the  desert  into  one  another  like  dissolving 
sands.  St.  Mary  of  Egypt  ( Vita  views  is  repeatedly  described  in  tho 
Fatrum,  ch.  xix.)  was  especially  biographies, 
tortured  by  the  i ©collection  of  the 

40 


118 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


of  the  desert.  At  that  moment  his  eye  fell  upon  a rock  on 
which  they  had  built  a hive.  He  passed  on  with  a shudder  and 
an  exorcism,  for  he  believed  it  to  be  a temptation  of  the 
dev  il.1  But  most  terrible  of  all  were  the  struggles  of  young 
and  ardent  men,  through  whose  veins  the  hot  blood  of  pas • 
sion  continually  flowed,  physically  incapable  of  a life  of 
celibacy,  and  with  all  that  proneness  to  hallucination  which 
a southern  sun  engenders,  who  were  borne  on  the  wave  of 
enthusiasm  to  the  desert  life.  In  the  arms  of  Syrian  or 
African  brides,  whose  soft  eyes  answered  love  with  love, 
they  might  have  sunk  to  rest,  but  in  the  lonely  wilderness 
no  peace  could  ever  visit  their  souls.  The  Lives  of  the 
Saints  paint  with  an  appalling  vividness  the  agonies  of  their 
struggle.  Multiplying  with  frantic  energy  the  macerations 
of  the  body,  beating  their  breasts  with  anguish,  the  tears  for 
ever  streaming  from  them  eyes,  imagining  themselves  con- 
tinually haunted  by  ever-changing  forms  of  deadly  beauty, 
which  acquired  a greater  vividness  from  the  very  passion 
with  which  they  resisted  them,  their  struggles  not  unfre- 
quently  ended  in  insanity  and  in  suicide.  It  is  related  that 
when  St.  Pachomius  and  St.  Palasmon  were  conversing  to- 
gether in  the  desert,  a young  monk,  with  his  countenance 
distracted  with  madness,  rushed  into  their  presence,  and, 
in  a voice  broken  with  convulsive  sobs,  poured  out  his  tale 
of  sorrows.  A woman,  he  said,  had  entered  his  cell,  had 
seduced  liim  by  her  artifices,  and  then  vanished  miraculously 
in  the  ah’,  leaving  him  half  dead  upon  the  ground ; — and 
then  with  a wild  shriek  the  monk  broke  away  from  the 
saintly  listeners.  Impelled,  as  they  imagined,  by  an  evil 
spirit,  he  rushed  across  the  desert,  till  he  arrived  at  the  next 
village,  and  there,  leaping  into  the  open  furnace  of  the  public 
baths,  he  pexished  in  the  flames.'2  Strange  stories  were  told 


' Rnfinus,  Hist.  Monaek.,  ch. xi.  2 Life  of  St.  Pachomius  [Vit, 
This  saint  was  St.  Helenas.  Vatrum),  cap.  ix. 


FROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE.  119 


among  the  monks  of  revulsions  of  passion  even  in  the  most 
advanced.  Of  one  monk  especially,  who  had  long  been  re- 
garded as  a pattern  of  asceticism,  but  who  had  suffered  him- 
self to  fall  into  that  self-complacency  which  was  very  common 
among  the  anchorites,  it  was  told  that  one  evening  a fainting 
woman  appeared  at  the  door  of  his  cell,  and  implored  him  to 
give  her  shelter,  and  not  permit  her  to  be  devoured  by  the  wild 
beasts.  In  an  evil  hour  he  yielded  to  her  prayer.  With  all 
the  aspect  of  profound  reverence  she  won  his  regards,  and  at 
last  ventured  to  lay  her  hand  upon  him.  But  that  touch 
convulsed  his  frame.  Passions  long  slumbering  and  for- 
gotten rushed  with  impetuous  fury  through  his  veins.  In 
a paroxysm  of  fierce  love,  he  sought  to  clasp  the  woman  to 
his  heart,  but  she  vanished  from  his  sight,  and  a chorus  of 
daemons,  with  peals  of  laughter,  exulted  over  liis  fall.  The 
sequel  of  the  story,  as  it  is  told  by  the  monkish  writer,  is,  I 
think,  of  a very  high  order  of  artistic  merit.  The  fallen  her- 
mit did  not  seek,  as  might  have  been  expected,  by  penance 
and  prayers  to  renew  his  purity.  That  moment  of  passion 
and  of  shame  had  revealed  in  him  a new  nature,  and  severed 
him  irrevocably  from  the  hopes  and  feelings  of  the  ascetic 
life.  The  fair  form  that  had  arisen  upon  his  dream,  though 
he  knew  it  to  be  a deception  luring  him  to  destruction,  still 
governed  his  heart.  He  fled  from  the  desert,  plunged  anew 
into  the  world,  avoided  all  intercourse  with  the  monks,  and 
followed  the  light  of  that  ideal  beauty  even  into  the  jaws 
of  hell.1 

1 Rufinus,  Hist.  Monach.  cap.  i.  quadam  illusions  prosternobant  se 
This  story  was  told  to  Rufinas  by  ante  ms  dicentes,  Indulge  nobis, 
St.  John  the  hermit.  The  same  abbas,  quia  laborem  tibi  incussi- 
saint  described  his  own  visions  very  mus  tota  nocte.’ — Ibid.  St.  Bene- 
graphically.  ‘ Deiiique  etiam  me  diet  in  the  desert  is  said  to  have 
frequenter  dsemones  noctibus  sedux-  been  tortured  by  the  recollection  ot 
erunt,  et  neque  orare  neque  requi-  a beautiful  girl  he  had  once  seen, 
escere  permiserunt,  phantasias  and  only  regained  his  composure 
quasdam  per  noetem  totam  sensi-  by  rolling  in  thorns.  (St.  Greg, 
bus  meis  et  cogitationes  sugge-  Dial.  ii.  2.) 
rentes.  Mane  vero  velut  cum 


120 


HISTORY  OP  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


Anecdotes  of  tliis  hind,  circulated  among  the  monks, 
contributed  to  heighten  the  feelings  of  terror  with  which 
they  regarded  all  communication  with  the  other  sex.  But 
to  avoid  such  communication  was  sometimes  very  difficult. 
Few  things  are  more  striking,  in  the  early  historians  of  the 
movement  we  are  considering,  than  the  manner  in  which 
narratives  of  the  deepest  tragical  interest  alternate  with  ex- 
tremely whimsical  accounts  of  the  profound  admiration  with 
which  the  female  devotees  regarded  the  most  austere  an- 
chorites, and  the  unwearied  perseverance  with  which  they 
endeavoured  to  force  themselves  upon  their  notice.  Some 
women  seem  in  this  respect  to  have  been  peculiarly  fortu- 
nate. St.  Melania,  who  devoted  a great  portion  of  her 
fortune  to  the  monks,  accompanied  by  the  historian  Rufinus, 
made,  near  the  end  of  the  fourth  century,  a long  pilgrimage 
through  the  Syrian  and  Egyptian  hermitages.1  But  with 
many  of  the  hermits  it  was  a rule  never  to  look  upon  the 
face  of  any  woman,  and  the  number  of  years  they  had 
escaped  this  contamination  was  commonly  stated  as  a con- 
spicuous proof  of  their  excellence.  St.  Basil  would  only 
speak  to  a woman  under  extreme  necessity.2  St.  John  of 
Lycopolis  had  not  seen  a woman  for  forty-eight  years.3  A 
tribune  was  sent  by  his  wife  on  a pilgrimage  to  St.  John 
the  hermit  to  implore  him  to  allow  her  to  visit  him,  her 
desire  being  so  intense  that  she  would  probably,  in  the 
opinion  of  her  husband,  die  if  it  were  ungratified.  At  last 
the  hermit  told  his  suppliant  that  he  would  that  night 
visit  his  wife  when  she  was  in  bed  in  her  house.  The 
tribune  brought  this  strange  message  to  his  wife,  who 

1 She  lived  also  for  some  time  weyde,  lib.  ii. 
in  a convent  at  Jerusalem,  which  2 See  hie  Life  in  Tillemont. 
she  had  founded  Melania  (who  s Ibid.  x.  p.  14.  A certain 
was  one  of  St.  Jerome’s  friends)  Didymus  lived  entirely  alone  till 

was  a lady  of  rank  and  fortune,  his  death,  which  took  place  whcD 
who  devoted  her  property  to  the  he  was  ninety.  (Socrates,  ILL 

monks.  See  her  journey  in  Eos-  rv.  23.) 


FROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE. 


121 


that  night  saw  the  hermit  in  a dream. 1 A young  Roman 
girl  made  a pilgrimage  from  Italy  to  Alexandria,  to  look 
upon  the  face  and  obtain  the  prayers  of  St.  Arsenins, 
into  whose  presence  she  forced  herself.  Quailing  beneath 
his  rebuffs,  she  flung  herself  at  his  feet,  imploring  him 
with  tears  to  grant  her  only  request  — to  remember  her, 
and  to  pray  for  her.  ‘ Remember  you !’  cried  the  indignant 
saint ; ‘ it  shall  be  the  prayer  of  my  life  that  I may  forget 
you.’  The  poor  girl  sought  consolation  from  the  Archbishop 
of  Alexandria,  who  comforted  her  by  assuring  her  that, 
though  she  belonged  to  the  sex  by  which  d anions  commonly 
tempt  saints,  he  doubted  not  the  hermit  would  pray  for  her 
soul,  though  he  would  try  to  forget  her  face.2  Sometimes 
this  female  enthusiasm  took  another  and  a more  subtle  form, 
and  on  more  than  one  occasion  women  were  known  to  attire 
themselves  as  men,  and  to  pass  them  lives  undisturbed  as 
anchorites.  Among  others,  St.  Pelagia,  who  had  been  the 
most  beautiful,  and  one  of  the  most  dangerously  seductive 
actresses  of  Antioch,  having  been  somewhat  strangely  con- 
verted, was  appointed  by  the  bishops  to  live  in  penance  with 
an  elderly  virgin  of  irreproachable  piety ; but,  impelled,  we 
are  told,  by  her  desire  for  a more  austere  life,  she  fled  from 
her  companion,  assumed  a male  attire,  took  refuge  among  the 
monks  on  the  Mount  of  Olives,  and,  with  something  of  the 
skill  of  her  old  profession,  supported  her  feigned  character  so 
consistently  that  she  acquired  great  renown,  and  it  was  only 
(it  is  said)  after  her  death  that  the  saints  discovered  who  had 
been  living  among  them.3 


1 Rufinus,  Hist.  Monachorum, 

cup.  i. 

■ Verba  Seniorum,  § 65. 

3 Pelagia  was  very  pretty,  and, 
according  to  her  own  account,  ‘ her 
fins  were  heavier  than  the  sand.’ 
The  people  of  Antioch,  who  were 
rery  fond  of  her,  called  her  Marga- 


rita, or  the  pearl.  ‘II  arriva  nn 
jour  que  divers  evesques,  appelez 
par  celui  d’Antioehe  pour  quelquea 
affaires,  estant  ensemble  a la  porte 
de  l’6glise  de  S.-Julien,  Pelagie 
passa  devant  eux  dans  tout  l’6clat 
des  pompes  du  diable,  n’ayant  pan 
seulement  une  coeffe  sur  sa  teste  id 


122 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


The  foregoing  anecdotes  and  observations  will,  I hope, 
have  given  a sufficiently  clear  idea  of  the  general  nature  of 
the  monastic  life  in  its  earliest  phase,  and  also  of  the  writings 
it  produced.  We  may  now  proceed  to  examine  the  ways  in 
which  this  mode  of  life  affected  both  the  ideal  type  and  .1:  e 
realised  condition  of  Christian  morals.  And  in  the  first 
place,  it  is  manifest  that  the  proportion  of  virtues  was 
altered.  If  an  impartial  person  were  to  glance  over  the 
etlncs  of  the  New  Testament,  and  were  asked  what  was  the 
central  and  distinctive  virtue  to  which  the  sacred  writers 
most  continually  referred,  he  would  doubtless  answer  that  it 
was  that  which  is  described  as  love,  charity,  or  philanthropy. 
If  he  were  to  apply  a similar  scrutiny  to  the  writings  of  the 
fourth  and  fifth  centuries,  he  would  answer  that  the  cardinal 
virtue  of  the  religious  type  was  not  love,  but  chastity.  And 
this  chastity,  which  was  regarded  as  the  ideal  state,  was  not 
the  purity  of  an  undefiled  marriage.  It  was  the  absolute 
suppression  of  the  whole  sensual  side  of  our  nature.  The 
chief  form  of  virtue,  the  central  conception  of  the  saintly 
life,  was  a perpetual  struggle  against  all  carnal  impulses,  by 
men  who  altogether  refused  the  compromise  of  marriage. 
From  this  fact,  if  I mistake  not,  some  interesting  and  impor- 
tant consequences  may  be  deduced. 

In  the  first  place,  religion  gradually  assumed  a very 
sombre  hue.  The  business  of  the  saint  was  to  eradicate  a 
natural  appetite,  to  attain  a condition  which  was  emphatic- 
ally abnormal.  The  depravity  of  human  nature,  especially 


un  mouchoir  sur  ses  6paules,  ce  mediately  began  crying  a great 
qu’on  remarqua  commo  le  comble  do  deal,  and  reassured  his  brethren, 
son  impudence.  Tous  les  ^vesques  and  a sermon  which  he  preached 
baissferent  les  yeux  en  ghnissant  led  to  the  conversion  of  the  actress, 
pour  ne  pas  voir  ce  dangereux  objet  (Tillemont,  Mem.  d’Hist.  eccles.  toma 
de  p£che,  hors  Nonne,  trts-saint  xii.  pp.  378-380.  See,  too,  on 
(ivesque  d’H61iop!e,  qui  la  regarda  women, ‘under  pretence  of  religion,’ 
avec  une  attention  qui  fit  peine aux  attiring  themsidves  as  men.  Sozo 
autres.’  However,  this  bishop  im-  men,  iii.  14.) 


FROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE. 


123 


the  essential  evil  of  the  body,  was  felt  with  a degree  of 
intensity  that  could  never  have  been  attained  by  moralists 
who  were  occupied  mainly  with  transient  or  exceptional 
vices,  such  as  envy,  anger,  or  cruelty.  And  in  addition  to 
the  extreme  inveteracy  of  the  appetite  which  it  was  desired 
to  eradicate,  it  should  be  remembered  that  a somewhat  luxu- 
rious and  indulgent  life,  even  when  that  indulgence  is  nob 
itself  distinctly  evil,  even  when  it  has  a tendency  to  mollify 
the  character,  has  naturally  the  effect  of  strengthening  the 
animal  passions,  and  is  therefore  directly  opposed  to  the 
ascetic  ideal.  The  consequence  of  this  was  first  of  all  a 
t,  ery  deep  sense  of  the  habitual  and  innate  depravity  of 
human  nature ; and,  in  the  next  place,  a very  strong  associa- 
tion of  the  idea  of  pleasure  with  that  of  vice.  All  this 
necessarily  flowed  from  the  supreme  value  placed  upon  vir- 
ginity. The  tone  of  calm  and  joyousness  that  characterises 
Greek  philosophy,  the  almost  complete  absence  of  all  sense 
of  struggle  and  innate  sin  that  it  displays,  is  probably  in  a 
very  large  degree  to  be  ascribed  to  the  fact  that,  in  the  de- 
partment of  morals  we  are  considering,  Greek  moralists  made 
no  serious  efforts  to  improve  our  nature,  and  Greek  public 
opinion  acquiesced,  without  scandal,  in  an  almost  boundless 
indulgence  of  illicit  pleasures. 

But  while  the  gi’eat  prominence  at  this  time  given  to  the 
conflicts  of  the  ascetic  life  threw  a dark  shade  upon  the 
popular  estimate  of  human  nature,  it  contributed,  I think, 
very  largely  to  sustain  and  deepen  that  strong  conviction  of 
the  freedom  of  the  human  will  which  the  Catholic  Church 
has  always  so  strenuously  upheld  ; for  there  is,  probably,  no 
ether  form  of  moral  conflict  in  which  men  are  so  habitually 
and  so  keenly  sensible  of  that  distinction  between  our  will 
and  oui  desires,  upon  the  reality  of  which  all  moral  freedom 
ultimately  depends.  It  had  also,  I imagine,  another  result, 
which  it  is  difficult  to  describe  with  the  same  precision. 
What  may  be  called  a strong  animal  nature — a nature,  that 


124 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


is,  in  Avhich  the  passions  are  in  vigorous,  and  at  the  same 
time  healthy,  action — is  that  in  which  we  should  most  natu 
rally  expect  to  find  several  moral  qualities.  Good  humour, 
frankness,  generosity,  active  courage,  sanguine  energy,  buoy- 
ancy of  temper,  are  the  usual  and  appropriate  accompani- 
ments of  a vigorous  animal  temperament,  and  they  are  much 
more  rarely  found  either  in  natures  that  are  essentially 
feeble  and  effeminate,  or  in  natures  which  have  been  artifi- 
cially emasculated  by  penances,  distorted  from  their  original 
tendency,  and  habitually  held  under  severe  control.  The 
ideal  type  of  Catholicism  being,  on  account  of  the  supreme 
value  placed  upon  virginity,  of  the  latter  kind,  the  qualities 
I have  mentioned  have  always  ranked  very  low  in  tho 
Catholic  conceptions  of  excellence,  and  the  steady  tendency 
of  Protestant  and  industrial  civilisation  has  been  to  elevate 
them. 

I do  not  know  whether  the  reader  will  regard  these 
speculations — which  I adArance  with  some  diffidence — as  far- 
fetched and  fanciful.  Our  knowledge  of  the  physical  ante- 
cedents of  different  moral  qualities  is  so  scanty  that  it  is 
difficult  to  speak  on  these  matters  with  much  confidence ; 
but  few  persons,  I think,  can  have  failed  to  observe  that  the 
physical  temperaments  I have  described  differ  not  simply  in 
the  one  great  fact  of  the  intensity  of  the  animal  passions,  but 
also  in  the  aptitude  of  each  to  produce  a distinct  moral  type, 
or,  in  other  words,  in  the  harmony  of  each  with  several 
qualities,  both  good  and  evil.  A doctrine,  therefore,  which 
connects  one  of  these  two  temperaments  indissolubly  with  the 
moral  ideal,  affects  the  appreciation  of  a large  number  of 
moral  qualities.  But  whate\Ter  may  be  thought  of  the  moral 
results  springing  from  the  physical  temperament  which  asce- 
ticism produced,  there  can  be  little  controversy  as  to  the 
effects  springing  from  the  condition  of  life  which  it  enjoined. 
Severance  from  the  interests  and  affections  of  all  around  him 
was  the  chief  object  of  the  anchorite,  and  the  first  cons©- 


FEOM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CTIAItUEHAGNE. 


125 


queuce  of  the  prominence  of  asceticism  was  a profound  dis- 
credit thrown  upon  the  domestic  virtues. 

The  extent  to  which  this  discredit  was  carried,  the 
intense  hardness  of  heart  and  ingratitude  manifested  by  the 
saints  towards  those  who  were  bound  to  them  by  the  closest 
of  earthly  ties,  is  known  to  few  who  have  not  studied  the 
original  literature  on  the  subject.  These  tilings  are  commonly 
thrown  into  the  shade  by  those  modern  sentimentalists  who 
delight  in  idealising  the  devotees  of  the  past.  To  break  by 
his  ingratitude  the  heart  of  the  mother  who  had  borne  him, 
to  persuade  the  wife  who  adored  him  that  it  was  her  duty  to 
separate  from  him  for  ever,  to  abandon  his  children,  uncared 
for  and  beggars,  to  the  mercies  of  the  world,  was  regarded  by 
the  true  hermit  as  the  most  acceptable  offering  he  could  make 
to  his  God.  His  business  was  to  save  his  own  soul.  The 
serenity  of  his  devotion  would  be  impaired  by  the  discharge 
of  the  simplest  duties  to  his  family.  Evagrius,  when  a 
hermit  in  the  desert,  received,  after  a long  interval,  letters 
from  his  father  and  mother.  He  could  not  hear  that  the 
equable  tenor  of  his  thoughts  should  be  disturbed  by  the 
recollection  of  those  who  loved  him,  so  he  cast  the  letters 
unread  into  the  fire.1  A man  named  Mutius,  accompanied 
by  his  only  child,  a little  boy  of  eight  years  old,  aban- 
doned his  possessions  and  demanded  admission  into  a 
monastery.  The  monks  received  him,  but  they  proceeded  to 
discipline  his  heart.  ‘ He  had  already  forgotten  that  he  was 
rich ; he  must  next  be  taught  to  forget  that  he  was  a father.’ 2 

1 Tillomont,  tome  x.  pp.  376,  saint  named  Boniface  struck  dead 
377-  Apart  from  family  afiections,  a man  who  weut  about  with  an  ape 
there  are  some  curious  instances  and  a cymbal,  because  he  had  (ap- 
recorded  of  the  anxiety  of  the  pareutly  quite  unintentionally)  dis- 
saints  to  avoid  distractions.  One  turbed  him  at  his  prayers.  (St. 
monk  used  to  cover  his  face  when  Greg.  Dial.  i.  9.) 
he  went  into  his  garden,  lest  the  2 ‘ Quemadmodum  se  jamdivi- 
6ight  of  the  trees  should  disturb  tem  non  esse  seiebat,  ita  etiam 
his  mind.  (Verb.  Seniorum.)  St.  patrem  se  esse  neseiret.’ — Cassiaru 
Arsenins  could  not  hear  the  rust-'  De  Coenobiorum  Institute,  iv.  27. 
ling  of  the  reeds  (ibid.);  and  a 


126 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


His  little  cliikl  was  separated  from  him,  clothed  in  dirty  rags, 
subjected  to  every  form  of  gross  and  wanton  hardship,  beaten, 
spurned,  and  ill  treated.  Day  after  day  the  father  was  com- 
pelled to  look  upon  his  boy  wasting  away  with  sorrow,  his 
once  happy  countenance  for  ever  stained  with  tears,  distorted 
by  sobs  of  anguish.  But  yet,  says  the  admiring  biographer, 
i though  he  saw  this  day  by  day,  such  was  his  love  for  Christ, 
and  for  tlio  virtue  of  obedience,  that  the  father’s  heart  was 
rigid  and  unmoved.  He  thought  little  of  the  tears  of  his 
child.  He  was  anxious  only  for  Ms  own  humility  and 
perfection  in  virtue.’ 1 At  last  the  abbot  told  him  to  take 
his  child  and  throw  it  into  the  liver.  He  proceeded,  without 
a murmur  or  apparent  pang,  to  obey,  and  it  was  only  at  the 
last  moment  that  the  monks  interposed,  and  on  the  very 
brink  of  the  river  saved  the  child.  Mutius  afterwards  rose 
to  a high  position  among  the  ascetics,  and  was  justly  regarded 
as  having  displayed  in  great  perfection  the  temper  of  a saint.'2 
An  inhabitant  of  Thebes  once  came  to  the  abbot  Sisoes,  and 
asked  to  be  made  a monk.  The  abbot  asked  if  he  had  any  one 
belonging  to  him.  He  answered,  ‘ A son.’  ‘ Take  your  son,’ 
rejoined  the  old  man,  ‘ and  throw  him  into  the  river,  and  then 
you  may  become  a monk.’  The  father  hastened  to  fulfil  the 
command,  and  the  deed  was  almost  consummated  when  a 
messenger  sent  by  Sisoes  revoked  the  order.3 

Sometimes  the  same  lesson  was  taught  under  the  form  of 
a miracle.  A man  had  once  deserted  his  three  children  to 
become  a monk.  Three  years  after,  he  determined  to  bring 
them  into  the  monastery,  but,  on  returning  to  his  home, 
found  that  the  two  eldest  had  died  during  his  absence.  He 
came  to  his  abbot,  bearing  in  his  arms  his  youngest  child, 

1 ‘ Cumque  taliter  infans  sub  cogitans  de  lacrymis  ejus,  sed  de 
oculis  ejus  per  dies  singulos  age-  propria  lmmilitate  ae  perfectione 
retur,  pro  amore  nihilominus  sdlicitus.’ — Ibid. 

Chrir.ti  et  obedientise  virtute,  ri-  2 Ibid. 

gida  semper  at que  immobiliapatris  . 8 Eollandists,  July  6;  Verl-n 

viscera  permanserunfc  ....  parum  Scnwrum,  xiv. 


FROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE.  127 

who  was  still  little  more  than  an  infant.  The  abbot  limned 
to  him  and  said,  ‘ Do  you  love  this  child  1 ’ The  father 
answered,  ‘Yes.’  Again  the  abbot  said,  ‘Do  you  love  it 
dearly  1 ’ The  father  answered  as  before.  ‘ Then  take  the 
child,’  said  the  abbot,  ‘ and  throw  it  into  the  lire  upon  yondi  r 
hearth.’  The  father  did  as  he  was  commanded,  and  the  child 
remained  unharmed  amid  the  flames.1  But  it  was  especially 
in  their  dealings  with  their  female  relations  that  this  aspect 
of  the  monastic  character  was  vividly  displayed.  In  this 
case  the  motive  was  not  simply  to  mortify  family  affections — ■ 
it  was  also  to  guard  against  the  possible  danger  resulting 
from  the  presence  of  a woman.  The  fine  flower  of  that 
saintly  purity  might  have  been  disturbed  by  the  sight  of  a 
mother’s  or  a sister’s  face.  The  ideal  of  one  age  appears 
sometimes  too  grotesque  for-  the  caricature  of  another ; and  it 
is  curious  to  observe  how  pale  and  weak  is  the  picture 
which  Mol  i Are  drew  of  the  affected  prudery  of  Tartuffe,2 3 
when  compared  with  the  narratives  that  are  gravely  pro- 
pounded in  the  Lives  of  the  Saints.  When  the  abbot  Sisoes 
had  become  a very  old,  feeble,  and  decrepit  man,  his  disciples 
exhorted  him  to  leave  the  desert  for  an  inhabited  country. 
Sisoes  seemed  to  yield ; but  he  stipulated,  as  a necessary 
condition,  that  in  Ids  new  abode  he  should  never  be  com- 
pelled to  encounter  the  peril  and  perturbation  of  looking  on 
a woman’s  face.  To  such  a nature,  of  course,  the  desert  alone 
was  suitable,  and  the  old  man  was  suffered  to  die  in  peace.0 
A monk  was  once  travelling  with  his  mother — in  itself  a 


1 Verba  S<niorum,  xiv.  Tartuffe. 

2 Tartuffe  ( tirant  un  mou-  Couvrez  ce  sein  que  je  no 

thoir  de  sa  poche).  saurois  voir ; 

Par  de  pareils  objets  des  ames  sort 
* Ah,  mon  Dieu,  je  vous  prie,  blessees, 

A vant  que  de  parler,  prenez-moi  ce  Et  cela  fait  venir  de  coupableH 
mouchoir.  penseos.’ 

Tartuffe,  Acte  iii.  srtne  2, 

3 Bollandists,  July  6. 


Comment  ! 


128 


HISTORY  OF  ® ROPE  AN  MORALS. 


most  unusual  circumstance — and,  having  arrived  at  a bridge- 
less  stream,  it  became  necessary  for  him  to  carry  her  across. 
To  her  surprise,  he  began  carefully  wrapping  up  his  hands 
in  cloths ; and  upon  her  asking  the  reason,  he  explained  that 
he  was  alarmed  lest  he  should  be  unfortunate  enough  to 
touch  her,  and  thereby  disturb  the  equilibrium  of  his  nature.1 
The  sister  of  St.  John  of  Calama  loved  him  dearly,  and 
earnestly  implored  him  that  she  might  look  upon  his  face 
once  more  before  she  died.  On  his  persistent  refusal,  she 
declared  that  she  would  make  a pilgrimage  to  him  in  the 
desert.  The  alarmed  and  perplexed  saint  at  last  wrote 
to  her,  promising  to  visit  her  if  she  would  engage  to  relin- 
quish her  design.  He  went  to  her  in  disguise,  received  a 
cup  of  water  from  her  hands,  and  came  away  without  being 
discovered.  She  wrote  to  him,  reproaching  him  with  not 
having  fulfilled  his  promise.  He  answered  her  that  he 
had  indeed  visited  her,  that  ‘ by  the  mercy  of  Jesus 
Christ  he  had  not  been  recognised,’  and  that  she  must 
never  see  him  again.'2  The  mother  of  St.  Theodoras  came 
armed  with  letter's  from  the  bishops  to  see  her  son,  but 
he  implored  Ins  abbot,  St.  Pachomius,  to  permit  him  to 
decline  the  interview ; and,  finding  all  her  efforts  in  vain, 
the  poor  woman  retired  into  a convent,  together  with  her 
daughter,  who  had  made  a similar  expedition  with  similar 
results.3  The  mother  of  St.  Marcus  persuaded  his  abbot  to 
command  the  saint  to  go  out  to  her.  Placed  in  a dilemma 
between  the  sin  of  disobedience  and  the  perils  of  seeing  his 
mother,  St.  Marcus  extricated  himself  by  an  ingenious  device. 
He  went  to  his  mother  with  his  face  disguised  and  his  eyes 

1 Verba  Scniorum,  iv.  The  mihi  commemoratio  aliarum  fend- 
poor  woman,  being  startled  and  narum  in  animo.’ 
perplexed  at  the  proceedings  of  her  2 Tillemont,  Mem,  de  VHist, 

son,  said,  ‘ Quid  sic  opernisti  manus  eccles.  tome  x.  pp.  444,  445. 
tuas,  fili  ? Ille  autem  dixit : Quia  3 Vit.  8.  Pachomius,  ch.  xxxi. ; 
corpus  mulieris  ignis  est,  et  ex  eo  Verba  Sentorum. 

ipso  quo  to  contingebam  veniebat 


FROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE. 


129 


shut.  The  mother  did  not  recogniso  her  son.  The  son  did 
not  see  Ids  mother.1  The  sister  of  St.  Pior  in  like  manner 
induced  the  abbot  of  that  saint  to  command  him  to  admit  her 
to  his  presence.  The  command  was  obeyed,  but  St.  Pioi 
resolutely  kept  his  eyes  shut  during  the  interview.2  St. 
rcemen  and  his  six  brothers  had  all  deserted  their  mother  to 
cultivate  the  perfections  of  an  ascetic  life.  But  ingratitude 
can  seldom  quench  the  love  of  a mother's  heart,  and  the 
old  woman,  now  bent  by  infirmities,  went  alone  into  the 
Egyptian  desert  to  see  once  more  the  children  she  so  dearly 
loved.  She  caught  sight  of  them  as  they  were  about  to  leave 
their  cell  for  the  church,  but  they  immediately  ran  back  into 
the  cell,  and,  before  her  tottering  steps  could  reach  it,  one 
of  her  sons  rushed  forward  and  closed  the  door  in  her  face. 
She  remained  outside  weeping  bitterly.  St.  Pocmen  then, 
coming  to  the  door,  but  without  opening  it,  said,  ‘ Why  do 
you,  who  are  already  stricken  with  age,  pour  forth  such  cries 
and  lamentations'?’  But  she,  recognising  the  voice  of  her 
son,  answered,  ‘ It  is  because  I long  to  see  you,  my  sons. 
What  harm  could  it  do  you  that  I should  see  you  1 Ami 
not  your  mother  ? did  I not  give  you  suck  1 I am  now  an  old 
and  wrinkled  woman,  and  my  heart  is  troubled  at  the  sound 
of  your  voices.’ 3 The  saintly  brothers,  however,  refused  to 

1 Verba  Senorium,  xiv.  sur  eux.  Elle  les  suivit,  et  trou- 

2 Palladius,  Hist.  Laus.  cap.  vant  la  porte,  elle  les  appeloit  avec 

Ixxxvii.  des  larmes  f-t  dcs  cris  capables  de 

3 Bollandists,  June  6.  I avail,  les  toucher  de  compassion 

myself  again  of  the  version  of  Pemen  s’y  leva  et  sy  en  alia,  et 
Tillemont.  ‘LorsqueS  Pemen  de-  I’entendantpleurerilluy  dit,  tenant 
meuroit  on  Egypt?  avec  ses  freres,  toujours  la  porte  fermde,  ‘Pourquoi 
leur  mere,  qui  avoit  un  extreme  vous  lassez-vous  inutilement  a 
desir  de  les  voir,  venoit  souvent  au  pleurer  et  crier?  N’etes-vous  pas 
lieu  ou  ils  estoient,  sans  pouvoir  deja  assezabattue  par  la  vieilbsse?  ’ 
jamais  avoir  cette  satisfaction.  Une  Elle  reconnut.  la  voix  de  Pemen,  et 
fois  enfin  elle  prit  si  bien  son  temps  s'effor^ant  encore  davantage,  elle 
qu’ elle  les  rencontra  qui  alloient  a s’icria,  ‘ He,  mes  enfaus,  c'est  que 
lAglisp,  mais  dis  qu’ilsla  virentils  je  voudrais  bien  vous  voir:  et 
s’en  retournerent  en  haste  dans  quel  mal  y a-t-il  que  je  vous  voie? 
leur  cellule  et  fermerent  la.  porte  Ne  suis-je  pas  votro  mire,  el  ne 


130 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


open  their  door.  They  told  their  mother  that  she  would  see 
them  after  death  ; and  the  biographer  says  she  at  last  went 
away  contented  with  the  prospect.  St.  Simeon  Stylites,  in 
this  as  in  other  respects,  stands  in  the  first  line.  He  had 
been  passionately  loved  by  his  parents,  and,  if  we  may  believe 
his  eulogist  and  biographer,  he  began  his  saintly  career  by 
breaking  the  heart  of  his  father,  who  died  of  grief  at  liis 
flight.  His  mother,  however,  lingered  on.  Twenty-seven 
years  after  his  disappearance,  at  a period  when  his  austerities 
had  made  him  famous,  she  heard  for  the  first  time  where  he 
was,  and  hastened  to  visit  him.  But  all  her  labour  was  in 
vain.  No  woman  was  admitted  within  the  precincts  of  his 
dwelling,  and  he  refused  to  permit  her  even  to  look  upon  his 
face.  Her  entreaties  and  tears  were  mingled  with  words  of 
bitter  and  eloquent  reproach. 1 ‘ My  son,’  she  is  represented 

as  having  said,  ‘ why  have  you  done  this  1 I bore  you  in  my 
womb,  and  you  have  wrung  my  soul  with  grief.  I gave  you 
milk  from  my  breast,  you  have  filled  my  eyes  with  tears. 
For  the  kisses  I gave  you,  you  have  given  me  the  anguish  of 
a broken  heart ; for  all  that  I have  done  and  suffered  for  you, 
you  have  repaid  me  by  the  most  cruel  wrongs.’  At  last  the 
saint  sent  a message  to  tell  her  that  she  would  soon  see  him. 
Three  days  and  three  nights  she  had  wept  and  entreated  in 
vain,  and  now,  exhausted  with  grief  and  age  and  privation, 
she  sank  feebly  to  the  ground  and  breathed  her  last  sigh  be- 
fore that  inhospitable  door.  Then  for  the  first  time  the  saint, 
accompanied  by  his  followers,  came  out.  He  shed  some  pious 

vous  ai-je  pnsnourri  du  laitdemes  quentthan  my  translation.  ‘Fili, 
mammelle6?  Je  suis  d6ja  toute  quare  hoe  focisti?  Pro  utero  qiu 
pleine  de  rides,  et  lorsque  je  vous  te  portavi,  satiasti  mo  luctu,  pre 
ay  entendu,  [’extreme  envie  que  laetatione  qua  te  lactavi  dedisti 
i'ay  de  vous  voir  m’a  tellement  mihi  lacrymas,  pro  osculo  quo  to 
emue  que  jo  suis  presque  tomb5e  osculata  sum,  dedisti  mihi  aniaras 
en  d6faillance.”  ’ — Memoires  de  cordis  angustias ; pro  dolore  et 
'’Hist,  eccles.  tome  xv.  pp.  157,  labore  quem  passa  sum,  imposuisti 
158.  mihi  ssevissimas  plagas.’ — Vita 

1 The  original  is  much  moreeio-  Simeonis  (in  Eosveyde). 


FROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE.  131 


teare  over  the  corpse  of  his  murdered  mother,  and  offered  up 
a prayer  consigning  her  soul  to  heaven.  Perhaps  it  was  hut 
fancy,  perhaps  life  was  not  yet  wholly  extinct,  perhaps  the 
story  is  but  the  invention  of  the  biographer ; but  a faint 
motion — which  appears  to  have  been  regarded  as  miraculous 
— is  said  to  have  passed  over  her  prostrate  form.  Simeon 
once  more  commended  her  soul  to  heaven,  and  then,  amid  the 
admiring  murmurs  of  his  disciples,  the  saintly  matricide 
returned  to  his  devotions. 

The  glaring  mendacity  that  characterises  the  Lives  of  the 
Catholic  Saints,  probably  to  a greater  extent  than  any  other 
important  branch  of  existing  literature,  makes  it  not  unreason- 
able to  hope  that  many  of  the  foregoing  anecdotes  represent 
much  less  events  that  actually  took  place  than  ideal  pictures 
generated  by  the  enthusiasm  of  the  clrroniclers.  They  are 
not,  however,  on  that  account  the  less  significant  of  the  moral 
conceptions  which  the  ascetic  period  had  crea  ted.  The  ablest 
men  in  the  Christian  community  vied  with  one  another  in 
inculcating  as  the  highest  form  of  duty  the  abandonment  of 
social  ties  and  the  mortification  of  domestic  affections.  A 
few  faint  restrictions  were  indeed  occasionally  made.  Much 
— on  which  I shall  hereafter  touch — was  written  on  the 
liberty  of  husbands  and  wives  deserting  one  another;  and 
something  was  written  on  the  cases  of  children  forsaking  or 
abandoning  their  parents.  At  first,  those  who,  when  children, 
were  devoted  to  the  monasteries  by  their  parents,  without 
their  own  consent,  were  permitted,  when  of  mature  age,  to 
return  to  the  world  ; and  this  liberty  was  taken  from  them 
for  the  first  time  by  the  fourth  Council  of  Toledo,  in  a.d.  633. 1 
The  Council  of  Gangra  condemned  the  heretic  Eustathius  for 
teaching  that  children  might,  through  religious  motives,  for- 
sake their  parents,  and  St.  Basil  wrote  in  the  same  strain  ; 3 
but  cases  of  this  kind  of  rebellion  against  parental  authority 
were  continually  recounted  with  admiration  in  the  Lives  of  the 


Bingham,  Antiquities,  Look  vii.  cli.  ;ii. 


Ibid. 


132 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN"  MORALS. 


Saints,  applauded  by  some  of  the  leading  Fathers,  and  virtually 
sanctioned  by  a law  of  Justinian,  which  deprived  parents  of 
the  power  of  either  restraining  their  children  from  entering 
monasteries,  or  disinheriting  them  if  they  had  done  so  without 
them  consent.1  St.  Chrysostom  relates  with  enthusiasm  the 
case  }f  a young  man  who  had  been  designed  by  his  father  for 
the  army,  and  who  was  lured  away  to  a monastery.2  The 
eloquence  of  St.  Ambrose  is  said  to  have  been  so  seductive, 
that  mothers  were  accustomed  to  shut  up  their  daughters  to 
guard  them  against  his  fascinations.3  The  position  of  affec- 
tionate parents  was  at  this  time  extremely  painful.  The 
touching  language  is  still  preserved,  in  which  the  mother  of 
Chrysostom — who  had  a distinguished  part  in  the  conversion 
of  her  son — implored  him,  if  he  thought  it  his  duty  to  fly  to 
the  desert  life,  at  least  to  postpone  the  act  till  she  had  died.'1 
St.  Ambrose  devoted  a chapter  to  proving  that,  while  those 
are  worthy  of  commendation  who  enter  the  monasteries 
with  the  approbation,  those  are  still  more  worthy  of  praise 
who  do  so  against  the  wishes,  of  their  parents ; and  he  pro- 
ceeded to  show  how  small  were  the  penalties  the  latter  could 
inflict  when  compared  with  the  blessings  asceticism  could 
bestow.5  Even  before  the  law  of  Justinian,  the  invectives  of 
the  clergy  were  directed  against  those  who  endeavoured  to 
prevent  their  children  flying  to  the  desert.  St.  Chrysostom 
explained  to  them  that  they  would  certainly  be  damned.6  St. 
Ambrose  showed  that,  even  in  this  world,  they  might  not  be 
unpunished.  A girl,  he  tells  us,  had  l’esolved  to  enter  into  a 
convent,  and  as  her  relations  were  expostulating  with  her  on 
her  intention,  one  of  those  present  tried  to  move  her  by  the 
memory  of  her  dead  father,  asking  whether,  if  he  were  still 

' Bingham,  Antiquities,  book  ’ Ibid.  vol.  iii.  p.  120. 
rii  chap.  3.  “ Dc  Viryinihus,  i.  11. 

2 Mil  man's  Early  Christianity  8 SeeMiiman's^«rZy  Christian- 

(ed.  1867),  vol.  iii.  p.  122.  ity,  vol.  iii.  p.  121. 

3 Ibid.  vol.  iii.  p.  1 53. 


FROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE.  133 


alive,  he  would  have  suffered  her  to  remain  unmarried. 

‘ Perhaps,'  she  calmly  answered,  ‘ it  was  for  this  very  purpose 
he  died,  that  he  should  not  throw  any  obstacle  in  my  way.’ 
Her  words  were  more  than  an  answer ; they  were  an  oracle. 
The  indiscreet  questioner  almost  immediately  died,  and  the 
relations,  shocked  by  the  manifest  providence,  desisted  from 
their  opposition,  and  even  implored  the  young  saint  to  accom- 
plish her  design.1  St.  Jerome  tells  with  rapturous  enthusiasm 
of  a little  girl,  named  Asella,  who,  when  only  twelve  years 
old,  devoted  herself  to  the  religious  life  and  refused  to  look 
on  the  face  of  any  man,  and  whose  knees,  by  constant  prayer, 
became  at  last  like  those  of  a camel.2  A famous  widow, 
named  Paula,  upon  the  death  of  her  husband,  deserted  her 
family,  listened  with  ‘ dry  eyes  ’ to  her  children,  who  were 
imploring  her  to  stay,  fled  to  the  society  of  the  monks  at 
Jerusalem,  made  it  her  desire  that  4 she  might  die  a beggar, 
and  leave  not  one  piece  of  money  to  her  son,*  and,  having  dis- 
sipated the  whole  of  her  fortune  in  charities,  bequeathed  to 
her  children  only  the  embarrassment  of  her  debts.3  It  was 
carefully  inculcated  that  all  money  given  or  bequeathed  to  the 
poor,  or  to  the  monks,  produced  spiritual  benefit  to  the  donors 
or  testators,  but  that  no  spiritual  benefit  sprang  from  money 
bestowed  upon  relations ; and  the  more  pious  minds  recoiled 


1 Dc  Virginibus,  i.  11. 

2 Epist.  xxiv. 

3 St.  Jerome  describes  the  scene 
at  her  departure  with  admiring 
eloquence.  ‘ Deseendit  ad  portum 
fratre,  cognatis,  affinibus  ot  quod 
majus  est  liberis  prosequentibus, 
et  clementissimam  inatrem  pietate 
vincere  cupientibus.  Jam  carbasa 

tendebantur,  et  remorum  ductu 
navis  in  altum  protrahebatur. 
Parvus  Toxotius  supplices  manus 
tendebat  in  littore,  Kuffina  jam 
nubilis  ut  suas  expectaret  nnptias 

41 


tacens  fietibus  obsecrabat.  Et 
tamen  ilia  siccos  tendebat  ad  caelum 
oculos,  pietatem  in  filios  pietate  in 
Deum  superans.  Nesciebat  so 
matrem  ut  Christi  probaret  ancil- 
lam.’ — Ep.  cviii.  In  another  place 
he  says  of  her:  ‘ Testis  est  Jesus, 
ne  unum  quidem  nummum  ab  ea 
filiae  derelictum  sed,  ut  ante  jam 
dixi,  derelictum  magnum  aes  alie- 
num.’ — Ibid.  And  again  : ‘ Vis, 

lector,  ejus  breviter  seire  virtutes? 
Omnes  suos  pauperi  s,  paupcrio; 
ipsa  dimisit.’ — Ibid. 


134 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


from  disposing  of  their  property  in  a manner  that  ■would  not 
redound  to  the  advantage  of  their  souls.  Sometimes  parents 
made  it  a dying  request  to  their  children  that  they  would 
preserve  none  of  their  property,  but  would  bestow  it  all 
among  the  poor.1  It  was  one  of  the  most  honourable  inci 
dents  of  the  life  of  St.  Augustine,  that  he,  like  Aurelius, 
Bishop  of  Carthage,  refused  to  receive  legacies  or  donations 
which  unjustly  spoliated  the  relatives  of  the  benefactoi  ,2 
Usually,  however,  to  outrage  the  affections  of  the  nearest  and 
dearest  relations  was  not  only  regarded  as  innocent,  hut  pro- 
posed as  the  highest  virtue.  ‘ A young  man,’  it  was  acutely 
said,  ‘ who  has  learnt  to  despise  a mother’s  grief,  will  easily 
bear  any  other  labour  that  is  imposed  upon  him.’3  St. 
Jerome,  when  exhorting  Heliodorus  to  desert  his  family  and 
become  a hermit,  expatiated  with  a fond  minuteness  on  ever 3’ 
form  of  natural  affection  he  desired  him  to  violate.  ‘ Though 
your  little  nephew  twine  his  arms  around  your  neck ; though 
your  mother,  with  dishevelled  hair  and  tearing  her  robe  asun- 
der, point  to  the  breast  with  which  she  suckled  you ; though 
your  father  fall  down  on  the  threshold  before  you,  pass  or 
over  your  father’s  body.  Fly  with  tearless  eyes  to  the  ban- 
ner of  the  cross.  In  this  matter  cruelty  is  the  only  piety 
. . . Your  widowed  sister  may  throw  her  gentle  arms  around 
you.  . . . Your  father  may  implore  you  to  wait  but  a short 
time  to  bury  those  near  to  you,  who  will  soon  be  no  more : 
your  weeping  mother  may  recall  your  childish  days,  and  may 
point  to  her  shrunken  breast  and  to  her  wrinkled  brow. 
Those  around  you  may  tell  you  that  all  the  household  rests 
upon  you.  Such  chains  as  these,  the  love  of  Cod  and  the 

1 See  Chastel,  Etudes  historiques  from  tho  Life  of  St.  Fulgcmnts, 

eur  la  Charite,  p.231 . The  parents  quoted'by  Dean  Milman.  ‘Facile 
tf  St.  Gregory  Nazianzen  had  made  potest  juvenis  tolerare  quemeunque 
this  request,  which  was  faithfully  imposuerit  Jaborem  qui  poterit 
observed.  maternum  jam  despicere  dolorem.’ 

2 Chastel  p.  232.  — Hist,  of  Latin  Christianity , vol 

8 See  a characteristic  passage  ii.  p.  82. 


FROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE. 


135 


fear  of  hell  can  easily  break.  You  say  that  Scripture  orders 
you  to  obey  your  parents,  but  he  who  loves  them  more  than 
Christ  loses  his  soul.  The  enemy  brandishes  a sword  to  slay 
me.  Shall  I tlrink  of  a mother’s  tears  % ’ 1 

The  sentiment  manifested  in  these  cases  continued  to  be 
displayed  in  later  ages.  Thus,  St.  Gregory  the  Great  as 
su  res  us  that  a certain  young  boy,  though  he  had  enrolled 
himself  as  a monk,  was  unable  to  repress  his  love  for  his 
parents,  and  one  night  stole  out  secretly  to  visit  them.  But 
the  judgment  of  God  soon  marked  the  enormity  of  the  offence. 
On  coming  back  to  the  monastery,  he  died  that  veiy  day,  and 
when  he  was  buried,  the  earth  refused  to  receive  so  heinous  a 
criminal.  His  body  was  repeatedly  thrown  up  from  the 
grave,  and  it  was  only  suffered  to  rest  in  peace  when  St. 
Benedict  had  laid  the  Sacrament  upon  its  breast.2  One  nun 
revealed,  it  is  said,  after  death,  that  she  had  been  condemned 
for  three  days  to  the  fires  of  purgatory,  because  she  had  loved 
her  mother  too  much.3  Of  another  saint  it  is  recorded  that 
his  benevolence  was  such  that  he  was  never  known  to  be 
hard  or  inhuman  to  any  one  except  his  relations.4  St. 
Romuald,  the  founder  of  the  Camaldolites,  counted  his  father 
among  his  spiritual  children,  and  on  one  occasion  punished 
liim  by  flagellation.5  The  first  nun  whom  St.  Francis  of 
Assisi  enrolled  was  a beautiful  girl  of  Assisi  named  Clara 
Sciii,  with  whom  he  had  for  some  time  carried  on  a clandes- 
tine correspondence,  and  whose  flight  from  her  father’s  home 
he  botli  counselled  and  planned.6  As  the  first  enthusiasm 
of  asceticism  died  away,  what  was  lost  in  influence  by 
the  father  was  gained  by  the  priest.  The  confessional  made 

1 Ep.  xiv.  (Ad  Hcliodorum).  manus,  taanquam  ignotos  illos  ro- 

2 St.  Greg.  Dial.  ii.  24.  spiciens.’—  Bollandists,  May  29. 

3 Bollandists,  May  3 (vol.  vii.  5 See  Jlelyot,  Diet,  des  Ordres 

p.  5G1).  religieux,  art. 1 Camaldules.’ 

4 ‘ Hospitibus  omni  locoac  tern-  6 See  the  charming  sketch  in  the 

pore  liberalissimus  fnit.  . . Solis  Life  of  St.  Francis,  by  Ease, 

consanguineis  durus  erat  et  inhu- 


136  HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 

this  personage  the  confidant  in  the  most  delicate  secrets  of 
domestic  life.  The  supremacy  of  authority,  of  sympathy,  and 
sometimes  even  of  affection,  passed  away  beyond  tlio  domestic 
circle,  and,  by  establishing  an  absolute  authority  over  tho 
most  secret  thoughts  and  feelings  of  nervous  and  credulous 
women,  the  priests  laid  the  foundation  of  the  empire  of 
the  world. 

The  picture  1 have  drawn  of  the  inroads  made  in  the  first 
period  of  asceticism  upon  the  domestic  affections,  tells,  I 
think,  its  own  story,  and  I shall  only  add  a very  few  words 
of  comment.  That  it  is  necessary  for  many  men  who  are 
pursuing  a truly  heroic  course  to  break  loose  from  the  tram- 
mels which  those  about  them  would  cast  over  their  actions 
or  their  opinions,  and  that  this  severance  often  constitutes 
at  once  one  of  the  noblest  and  one  of  the  most  painful 
incidents  in  their  career,  are  unquestionable  truths ; but 
the  examples  of  such  occasional  and  exceptional  sacrifices, 
endured  for  some  great  unselfish  end,  cannot  be  compared 
with  the  conduct  of  those  who  regarded  the  mortification  of 
domestic  love  as  in  itself  a form  of  virtue,  and  whose  ends 
were  mainly  or  exclusively  selfish.  The  sufferings  endured 
by  the  ascetic  who  fled  from  his  relations  were  often,  no 
doubt,  very  great.  Many  anecdotes  remain  to  show  that 
warm  and  affectionate  hearts  sometimes  beat  under  the  cold 
exterior  of  the  monk ; 1 and  St.  Jerome,  in  one  of  his  letters, 
remarked,  with  much  complacency  and  congratulation,  that 
the  very  bitterest  pang  of  captivity  is  simply  this  irrevocable 


1 The  legend  of  St.  Scholastic:),  Cassian  speaks  of  a monk  who 
tho  sister  of  St.  Benedict,  has  been  thought  it  his  duty  never  to  sco 
often  quoted.  He  had  visited  her,  his  mother,  but  who  laboured  for  a 
and  was  about  to  leave  in  the  even-  whole  year  to  pay  off  a debt  she 
ing,  when  she  implored  him  to  stay,  had  incurred.  (Ccenob.  Inst.  v.  38.) 
He  refused,  and  she  then  prayed  to  St.  Jerome  mentions  the  strong 
God,  who  sent  so  violent  a tempest  natural  affection  of  Paula,  though 
that  the  saint  was  unable  to  de-  she  considered  it  a virtue  to  mor 
part.  (St.  Greg.  Dial.  ii.  33.)  tify  it.  (Ep.  cviii.) 


FROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE.  137 


separation  which  the  superstition  he  preached  induced  multi- 
tudes to  inflict  upon  themselves.  But  if,  putting  aside  the 
intrinsic  excellence  of  an  act,  we  attempt  to  estimate  the 
nobility  of  the  agent,  we  must  consider  not  only  the  cost  of 
what  he  did,  but  also  the  motive  which  induced  him  to  do  it. 
It  is  this  last  consideration  which  renders  it  impossible  for  us 
to  place  the  heroism  of  the  ascetic  on  the  same  level  with  that 
of  the  great  patriots  of  Greece  or  Borne.  A man  may  be  as 
truly  selfish  about  the  next  world  as  about  this.  Where  an 
overpowering  dread  of  future  torments,  or  an  intense  realisa- 
tion of  future  happiness,  is  the  leading  motive  of  action,  the 
theological  virtue  of  faith  may  be  present,  but  the  ennobling 
quality  of  disinterestedness  is  assuredly  absent.  In  our  day, 
when  pictures  of  rewards  and  punishments  beyond  the  grave 
act  but  feebly  upon  the  imagination,  a religious  motive  is 
commonly  an  unselfish  motive  ; but  it  has  not  always  been 
so,  and  it  was  undoubtedly  not  so  in  the  first  period  of  asce- 
ticism. The  terrors  of  a future  judgment  drove  the  monk 
into  the  desert,  and  the  whole  tenor  of  the  ascetic  life,  while 
isolating  him  from  human  sympathies,  fostered  an  intense, 
though  it  may  be  termed  a religious,  selfishness. 

The  effect  of  the  mortification  of  the  domestic  affections 
upon  the  general  character  was  probably  very  pernicious. 
The  family  circle  is  the  appointed  sphere,  not  only  for  the 
performance  of  manifest  duties,  but  also  for  the  cultivation 
of  the  affections ; and  the  extreme  ferocity  which  so  often 
characterised  the  ascetic  was  the  natural  consequence  of  the 
discipline  he  imposed  upon  himself.  Severed  from  all  other 
ties,  the  monks  clung  with  a desperate  tenacity  to  their 
opinions  and  to  their  Church,  and  hated  those  who  dissented 
from  them  with  all  the  intensity  of  men  whose  whole  lives 
were  concentrated  on  a single  subject,  whose  ignorance  and 
bigotry  prevented  them  from  conceiving  the  possibility  of 
any  good  thing  in  opposition  to  themselves,  and  who  had 
made  it  a main  object  of  their  discipline  to  eradicate  ail 


138 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


natural  sympathies  and  affections.  "We  may  reasonably  attri- 
bute to  the  fierce  biographer  the  words  of  burning  haired  of 
all  heretics  which  St.  Athanasius  puts  in  the  mouth  of  the 
dying  patriarch  of  the  hermits ; 1 but  ecclesiastical  history, 
and  especially  the  writings  of  the  later  Pagans,  abundantly 
prove  that  the  sentiment  was  a general  one.  To  the  Chris- 
tian bishops  it  is  mainly  due  that  the  wide  and  general, 
though  not  perfect,  recognition  of  religious  liberty  in  the 
Homan  legislation  was  replaced  by  laws  of  the  most  minute 
and  stringent  intolerance.  To  the  monks,  acting  as  the  exe- 
cutive of  an  omnipresent,  intolerant,  and  aggressive  clergy, 
is  due  an  administrative  change,  perhaps  even  more  impor- 
tant than  the  legislative  change  that  had  preceded  it.  The 
system  of  conniving  at,  neglecting,  or  despising  forms  of 
worship  that  were  formally  prohibited,  which  had  been  so 
largely  practised  by  the  sceptical  Pagans,  and  under  the  lax 
police  system  of  the  Empire,  and  which  is  so  important  a fact 
in  the  history  of  the  rise  of  Christianity,  was  absolutely  de- 
stroyed. Wandering  in  bands  through  the  country,  the 
monks  were  accustomed  to  burn  the  temples,  to  break  the 
idols,  to  overthrow  the  altars,  to  engage  in  fierce  conflicts 
with  the  peasants,  who  often  defended  with  desperate  courage 
the  shrines  of  their  gods.  It  would  be  impossible  to  conceive 
men  more  fitted  for  the  task.  Their  fierce  fanaticism,  then’ 
persuasion  that  every  idol  was  tenanted  by  a literal  daemon, 
and  their  belief  that  death  incurred  in  this  iconoclastic 
crusade  was  a form  of  martyrdom,  made  them  careless  of  all 
consequences  to  themselves,  while  the  reverence  that  attached 
to  their  profession  rendered  it  scarcely  possible  for  the  civil 
power  to  arrest  them.  Men  who  had  learnt  to  look  with  in- 
difference on  the  tears  of  a broken-hearted  mother,  and  whose 
ideal  was  indissolubly  connected  with  the  degradation  of  the 


1 Life  of  Antony.  See,  too,  the  sentiments  of  St.  Paehomius,  ViU 
enp.  xxvii. 


FROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE. 


139 


body,  were  but  little  likely  to  be  moved  either  by  the  pathos 
of  old  associations,  and  of  reverent,  though  mistaken,  worship, 
or  by  tire  grandeur  of  the  Serapeum,  or  of  the  noble  statues  of 
Phidias  and  Praxiteles.  Sometimes  the  civil  power  ordered 
the  reconstruction  of  Jewish  synagogues  or  heretical  churches 
which  had  been  illegally  destroyed ; but  the  doctrine  was 
early  maintained  that  such  a reconstruction  was  a deadly  sin. 
Under  Julian  some  Christians  suffered  martyrdom  sooner 
than  be  parties  to  it ; and  St.  Ambrose  from  the  pulpit 
of  Milan,  and  Simeon  Stylites  from  his  desert  pillar,  united 
in  denouncing  Theodosius,  who  had  been  guilty  of  issuing 
this  command. 

Another  very  important  moral  result  to  which  asceticism 
largely  contributed  was  the  depression  and  sometimes  almost 
the  extinction  of  the  civic  virtues.  A candid  examination 
will  show  that  the  Christian  civilisations  have  been  as  infe- 
rior to  the  Pagan  ones  in  civic  and  intellectual  virtues  as  they 
have  been  superior  to  them  in  the  virtues  of  humanity  and 
of  chastity.  We  ho.ve  already  seen  that  one  remarkable  fea- 
ture of  the  intellectual  movement  that  preceded  Christianity 
was  the  gradual  decadence  of  patriotism.  In  the  earty  days 
both  of  Greece  and  Rome,  the  first  duty  enforced  was  that  of 
a man  to  his  country.  This  was  the  rudimentary  or  cardinal 
virtue  of  the  moral  type.  It  gave  the  tone  to  the  whole 
system  of  ethics,  and  different  moral  qualities  were  valued 
chiefly  in  proportion  to  their  tendency  to  form  illustrious 
citizens.  The  destruction  of  this  spirit  in  the  Roman  Empire 
was  due,  as  we  have  seen,  to  two  causes — one  of  them  being 
political  and  the  other  intellectual.  The  political  cause 
was  the  amalgamation  of  the  different  nations  in  one  great 
despotism,  which  gave  indeed  an  ample  field  for  personal 
and  intellectual  freedom,  but  extinguished  the  sentiment 
sf  nationality  and  closed  almost  every  sphere  of  political 
activity.  The  intellectual  cause,  which  was  by  no  means 
unconnected  with  the  political  one,  was  the  growing  ascend 


140 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


ancy  of  Oriental  philosophies,  which  dethroned  the  active 
Stoicism  of  the  early  Empire,  and  placed  its  ideal  cf  ex- 
cellence in  contemplative  virtues  and  in  elaborate  puri- 
fications. By  this  decline  of  the  patriotic  sentiment  the 
progress  of  the  new  faith  was  greatly  aided.  In  all  matters 
cf  religion  the  opinions  of  men  are  governed  much  more  by 
their  sympathies  than  by  their  judgments;  and  it  rarely  oi 
never  happens  that  a religion  which  is  opposed  to  a strong 
national  sentiment,  as  Christianity  was  in  Judea,  as  Catholi- 
cism and  Episcopalian  Pi’otestantism  have  been  in  Scotland, 
and  as  Anglicanism  is  even  now  in  Ireland,  can  win  the  ac- 
ceptance of  the  people. 

The  relations  of  Christianity  to  the  sentiment  of  patriot- 
ism were  from  the  first  very  unfortunate.  While  the  Chris 
tians  were,  for  obvious  reasons,  completely  separated  from 
the  national  spirit  of  Judea,  they  found  themselves  equally 
at  variance  with  the  lingering  remnants  of  Itoman  patriot- 
ism. Borne  was  to  them  the  power  of  Antichrist,  and  its 
overthrow  the  necessary  prelude  to  the  millennial  reign. 
They  formed  an  illegal  organisation,  directly  opposed  to  the 
genius  of  the  Empire,  anticipating  its  speedy  destruction, 
looking  back  with  something  more  than  despondency  to 
the  fate  of  the  heroes  who  adorned  its  past,  and  refusing 
resolutely  to  participate  in  those  national  spectacles  which 
were  the  symbols  and  the  expressions  of  patriotic  feeling. 
Though  scrupulously  averse  to  all  rebellion,  they  rarely  con- 
cealed their  sentiments,  and  the  whole  tendency  of  their 
teaching  was  to  withdraw  men  as  far  as  possible  both  from 
the  functions  and  the  enthusiasm  of  public  life.  It  was  at 
once  their  confession  and  their  boast,  that  no  interests  were 
more  indifferent  to  them  than  those  of  their  country.1  They 
regarded  the  lawfulness  of  taking  arms  as  very  questionable, 


1 ‘ Nee  alia  res  aliona  magis  quam  publica.’ — Tertullian,  Apul. 
cli.  xxxviii. 


FROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE. 


141 


and  all  those  proud  and  aspiring  qualities  that  constitute  the 
distinctive  beauty  of  the  soldier’s  character  as  emphatically 
unchristian.  Their  home  and  their  interests  were  in  another 
world,  and,  provided  only  they  were  unmolested  in  their 
worship,  they  avowed  with  frankness,  long  after  the  Empire 
had  become  Cliristian,  that  it  was  a matter  of  indifference  to 
them  under  what  rule  they  lived.1  Asceticism,  drawing  all 
the  enthusiasm  of  Christendom  to  the  desert  life,  and  ele- 
vating as  an  ideal  the  extreme  and  absolute  abnegation  of 
all  patriotism,2  formed  the  culmination  of  the  movement, 
and  was  undoubtedly  one  cause  of  the  downfall  of  the 
itornan  Empire. 

There  are,,  probably,  few  subjects  on  wliick  popular  judg- 
ments are  commonly  more  erroneous  than  upon  the  relations 


1 ‘ Quid  interest  sub  eujus  im- 
perio  vivat  homo  moriturus,  si  illi 
qui  imperant,  ad  impia  et  iuiqua 
non  eogant.’  — St.  Aug.  De  Civ.  Dei, 
v.  17. 

2 St.  Jerome  declares  that 
‘Monaohum  in  patria  sua  pur- 
fectum  esse  non  posse,  perfectum 
autem  esse  nolle  delinquere  est.’ 
• — Ep.  sir.  Dean  Milman  well 
says  of  a later  period:  ‘According 
to  the  monastic  view  of  Chris- 
tianity, the  total  abandonment 
of  tlie  world,  with  all  its  ties  and 
duties,  as  well  as  its  treasures,  its 
enjoyments,  and  objects  of  am- 
bition, advanced  rather  than  dimi- 
nished the  hopes  of  salvation. 
Why  should  they  fight  for  a perish- 
ing world,  from  which  it  was  better 
to  be  estranged  ? ...  It  is  singu- 
lar, indeed,  that  while  we  have  seen 
the  Eastern  monks  turned  into 
fierce  undisciplined  soldiers,  peril- 
ling their  own  lives  and  shedding 
the  blood  of  others  without  re- 
morse, in  assertion  of  some  shadowy 
shade  of  orthodox  expression, 


hardly  anywhere  do  we  find  them 
asserting  their  liberties  or  their 
religion  with  intrepid  resistance. 
Hatred  of  heresy  was  a more  stir- 
ring motive  than  the  dread  or  the 
danger  of  Islamism.  After  the 
first  defeats  the  Christian  mind 
was  still  further  prostrated  by  the 
common  _ notion  that  the  invasion 
was  a just  and  heaven-commis- 
sioned visitation  ; . . . resistance 
a vain,  almost  an  impious  struggle 
to  avert  inevitable  punishment.’  — 
Milman’s  Latin  Christianity,  vol. 
ii.  p.  206.  Compare  Massillon’s 
famous  Discours  au  Regiment  de 
Catinat : — ‘ Ce  qu'il  y a ici  de  plus 
deplorable,  e’est  que  dans  une  vie 
rude  et  p^nible,  dans  des  emplois 
dont  les  devoirs  passent  quelque- 
fois  la  rigueur  des  eloitres  les  plus 
austeres,  vous  souffrez  toujours  en 
vain  pour  l’autre  vie.  . . . Dix  ana 
de  services  ont  plus  use  votre  corps 
qu’une  vie  entiere  de  penitence  . . 

. . un  seul  jour  de  ces  souifrances, 
consacre  au  Seigneur,  vous  aurait 
peut-etre  valu  un  honheur  eterneL 


142 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


between  positive  religions  and  moral  enthusiasm.  Religions 
have,  no  doubt,  a most  real  power  of  evoking  a latent  energy 
which,  without  their  existence,  would  never  have  been  called 
Into  action ; but  their  influence  is  on  the  whole  probably 
more  attractive  than  creative.  They  supply  the  channel  in 
which  moral  enthusiasm  flows,  the  banner  under  which  it 
is  enlisted,  the  mould  in  which  it  is  cast,  the  ideal  to  which 
it  tends.  The  first  idea  which  the  phrase  ‘ a very  good  man  ’ 
would  have  suggested  to  an  early  Roman  would  probably  have 
been  that  of  great  and  distinguished  patriotism,  and  the  passion 
and  interest  of  such  a man  in  his  country’s  cause  were  in 
direct  proportion  to  his  moral  elevation.  Ascetic  Christianity 
decisively  diverted  moral  enthusiasm  into  another  channel, 
and  the  civic  virtues,  in  consequence,  necessarily  declined. 
The  extinction  of  all  public  spirit,  the  base  treachery  and 
corruption  pervading  every  department  of  the  Government, 
the  cowardice  of  the  army,  the  despicable  frivolity  of  character 
that  led  the  people  of  Treves,  when  fresh  from  their  burning 
city,  to  call  for  theatres  and  circuses,  and  the  people  of  Roman 
Carthage  to  plunge  wildly  into  the  excitement  of  the  chariot 
races,  on  the  very  day  when  their  city  succumbed  beneath 
the  Vandal ; 1 all  these  things  coexisted  with  extraordinary 
displays  of  ascetic  and  of  missionary  devotion.  The  genius 
and  the  virtue  that  might  have  defended  the  Empire  were  en- 
gaged in  fierce  disputes  about  the  Pelagian  controversy,  at  the 
very  time  when  Alaric  was  encircling  Rome  with  his  armies,2 
and  there  was  no  subtlety  of  theological  metaphysics  which 
did  not  kindle  a deeper  interest  in  the  Christian  leaders  than 
the  throes  of  their  expiring  country.  The  moral  enthusiasm 
that  in  other  days  would  have  fired  the  armies  of  Rome  with 


1 See  a very  striking  passage  in  Pelage  que  de  la  desolation  da 
Salvian,  De  Gubern.  Div.  lib.  vi.  l’Afrique  et  des  Gaules.’ — Etudes 

2 Chateaubriand  very  truly  liistor.  vi"1*  diseours,  2tie  partie. 
says,  ‘qu’Orose  et  saint  Augustin  The  remark  might  certainly  ba 
etoient  plus  oecup^s  du  scliisme  de  extended  much  farther. 


FROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE. 


143 


an  invincible  valour,  impelled  thousands  to  abandon  their 
country  and  their  homes,  and  consume  the  weary  horn's  in  a 
long  routine  of  useless  and  horrible  macerations.  When  the 
Goths  had  captured  Rome,  St.  Augustine,  as  we  have  seen, 
pointed  with  a just  pride  to  the  Christian  Church,  which  re- 
mained an  unviolated  sanctuary  during  the  horrors  of  the 
sack,  as  a proof  that  a new  spirit  of  sanctity  and  of  rever- 
ence had  descended  upon  the  world.  The  Pagan,  in  his  turn, 
pointed  to  what  he  deemed  a not  less  significant  fact — the 
golden  statues  of  Valour  and  of  Fortune  were  melted  down 
to  pay  the  ransom  to  the  conquerors. 1 Many  of  the  Chris- 
tians contemplated  with  an  indifference  that  almost  amounted 
to  complacency  what  they  regarded  as  the  predicted  ruin  of 
the  city  of  the  fallen  gods.2  When  the  Vandals  swept  over 
Africa,  the  Donatists,  maddened  by  the  persecution  of  the 
orthodox,  received  them  with  open  arms,  and  contributed 
their  share  to  that  deadly  blow.3  The  immortal  pass  of 
Thermopylae  was  surrendered  without  a struggle  to  the 
Goths.  A Pagan  writer  accused  the  monks  of  having  be- 
trayed it.4  It  is  more  probable  that  they  had  absorbed  or 
diverted  the  heroism  that  in  other  days  would  have  defended 
it.  The  conquest,  at  a later  date,  of  Egypt,  by  the  Moham- 
medans, was  in  a great  measure  due  to  an  invitation  from 
the  persecuted  Monophysites.5  Subsequent  religious  wars 


1 Zosimus,  Hist.  v.  41.  This  was  5 Sismondi,  Hist,  da  la  Chute  de 
on  the  first  occasion  when  Rome  I'Empire  romain,  tome  ii.  pp.  52- 
was  menaced  by  Alaric.  54 ; Milman,  Hist,  of  Latin  Chris- 

- See  Merivale’s  Conversion  of  tianity,  vol.  ii.  p.  213.  The  Mono- 
the  Northern  Nations,  pp.  207-  physites  were  greatly  afflicted  bo- 
210.  cause,  after  the  conquest,  the  Mo- 

3 See  Sismondi,  Hist,  de  la  hammedans  tolerated  the  orthodox 

Chute  I’Empire  romain,  tome  i.  believers  as  well  as  themselves, 
p.  230.  and  were  unable  to  appreciate 

* Eunapius.  There  is  no  other  the  distinction  between  them.  In 
authority  for  the  story  of  the  Gaul,  the  orthodox  clergy  favoured 
treachery,  which  is  not  believed  the  invasions  of  the  Franks,  whit, 
bv  Gil  bon.  alone  of  the  barbarian  conquerors 


144 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


have  again  and  again  exhibited  the  same  phenomenon.  'Ilia 
treachery  of  a religionist  to  his  country  no  longer  argued  an 
absence  of  all  moral  feeling.  It  had  become  compatible  with 
the  deepest  religious  enthusiasm,  and  with  all  the  courage  of 
a martyr. 

It  is  somewhat  difficult  to  form  a just  estimate  of  how  far 
the  attitude  assumed  by  the  Church  towards  the  barbarian 
invaders  has  on  the  whole  proved  beneficial  to  mankind.  The 
Empire,  as  we  have  seen,  had  long  been,  both  morally  and  po- 
litically, in  a condition  of  manifest  decline;  its  fall,  though  it 
might  have  been  retarded,  could  scarcely  have  been  averted, 
and  the  new  religion,  even  in  its  most  superstitious  form, 
while  it  did  much  to  displace,  did  also  much  to  elicit  moral 
enthusiasm.  It  is  impossible  to  deny  that  the  Christian 
priesthood  contributed  very  materially,  both  by  their  charity 
and  by  their  arbitration,  to  mitigate  the  calamities  that 
accompanied  the  dissolution  of  the  Empire ; 1 and  it  is  equally 
impossible  to  doubt  that  them  political  attitude  greatly 
increased  them  power  for  good.  Standing  between  the  con- 
flicting forces,  almost  indifferent  to  the  issue,  and  notoriously 
exempt  from  the  passions  of  the  combat,  they  obtained  with 
the  conqueror,  and  used  for  the  benefit  of  the  conquered,  a 
degree  of  influence  they  would  never  have  possessed,  had  they 
been  regarded  as  Roman  patriots.  Their  attitude,  however, 
marked  a complete,  and,  as  it  has  proved,  a permanent,  change 
in  the  position  assigned  to  patriotism  in  the  moral  scale.  Tt 


of  Gaul,  were  Catholics,  and  St. 
Aprunculus  was  obliged  to  fly,  the 
Burgundians  desiring  to  kill  him 
on  account  of  his  susppcted  con- 
nivance with  the  invaders.  (Greg. 
Tvr.  ii.  23.) 

1 Dean  Milman  says  of  the 
Church,  ‘if  treacherous  to  the  in- 
terests of  the  Roman  Empire,  it 


was  true  to  those  of  mankind.’ — 
Hist,  of  Christianity,  vol.  iii.  p.  48. 
So  Gibbon  : ‘ If  the  decline  of  the 
Roman  Empire  was  hastened  by 
the  conversion  of  Constantine,  the 
victorious  religion  broke  the  vio- 
lence of  the  fall  and  mollified  the 
ferocious  temper  of  the  conquerors,' 
— Ch.  xxxviii. 


FROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE. 


145 


has  occasionally  happened  in  later  times,  that  churches  have 
found  it  for  their  interest  to  appeal  to  this  sentiment  in  their 
conflict  with  opposing  creeds,  or  that  patriots  have  found  the 
objects  of  churchmen  in  harmony  with  their  own ; and  in 
these  cases  a fusion  of  theological  and  patriotic  feeling  has 
taksn  place,  in  which  each  has  intensified  the  other.  Such 
has  been  the  effect  of  the  conflict  between  the  Spaniards  and 
the  Moors,  between  the  Poles  and  the  Russians,  between  the 
Scotch  Puritans  and  the  English  Episcopalians,  between  the 
Irish  Catholics  and  the  English  Protestants.  But  patriotism 
itself,  as  a duty,  has  never  found  any  place  in  Christian 
ethics,  and  strong  theological  feeling  has  usually  been  directly 
hostile  to  its  growth.  Ecclesiastics  have,  no  doubt,  taken  a 
very  large  shai’e  in  political  affairs,  but  this  has  been  in  most 
cases  solely  with  the  object  of  wresting  them  into  conformity 
with  ecclesiastical  designs  ; and  no  other  body  of  men  have 
so  uniformly  sacrificed  the  interests  of  their  country  to  the 
interests  of  their  class.  For  the  repugnance  between  the 
theological  and  the  patriotic  spirit,  three  reasons  may,  I 
think,  be  assigned.  The  first  is  that  tendency  of-  strong 
religious  feeling  to  divert  the  mind  from  all  terrestrial  cares 
and  passions,  of  which  the  ascetic  life  was  the  extreme 
expression,  but  which  has  always,  under  different  forms,  been 
manifested  in  the  Church.  The  second  arises  from  the  fact 
that  each  form  of  theological  opinion  embodies  itself  in  a 
visible  and  organised  church,  with  a government,  interest, 
and  policy  of  its  own,  and  a frontier  often  intersecting  rather 
than  following  national  boundaries ; and  these  churches 
attract  to  themselves  the  attachment  and  devotion  that 
would  naturally  be  bestowed  upon  the  country  and  its 
rulers.  The  third  reason  is,  that  the  saintly  and  the  heroic 
characters,  which  represent  the  ideals  of  religion  and  of 
patriotism,  are  generically  different ; for  although  they  have 
no  doubt  many  common  elements  of  virtue,  the  distinctive 


14G  HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 

excellence  of  each  is  derived  from  a proportion  or  disposition 
of  qualities  altogether  different  from  that  of  the  other.1 

Before  dismissing  this  very  important  revolution  in  moral 
history,  I may  add  hvo  remarks.  In  the  first  place,  we  may 
observe  that  the  relation  of  the  two  great  schools  of  morals 
to  active  and  political  life  has  been  completely  changed. 
Among  the  ancients,  the  Stoics,  who  regarded  virtue  and 
vice  as  generically  different  from  all  other  things,  participated 
actively  in  public  life,  and  made  this  participation  one  of  the 
first  of  duties ; while  the  Epicureans,  who  resolved  virtue  into 
utility,  and  esteemed  happiness  its  supreme  motive,  abstained 
from  public  life,  and  taught  their  disciples  to  neglect  it. 
Asceticism  followed  the  Stoical  school  in  teaching  that  virtue 
and  happiness  are  generically  different  things ; but  it  was  at 
the  same  time  eminently  unfavourable  to  civic  virtue.  On 
the  other  hand,  that  great  industrial  movement  which  has 
arisen  since  the  abolition  of  slavery,  and  which  has  always 
been  essentially  utilitarian  in  its  spirit,  has  been  one  of  the 
most  active  and  influential  elements  of  political  progress. 
This  change,  though,  as  far  as  I know,  entirely  unnoticed  by 
historians,  constitutes,  I believe,  one  of  the  great  landmarks 
of  moral  history. 

The  second  observation  I would  make  relates  to  the  esti- 
mate we  form  of  the  value  of  patriotic  actions.  However 


1 Observe  with  what  a flue  per- 
ception St.  Augustine  notices  the 
essentially  unchristian  character 
of  the  moral  dispositions  to  which 
the  greatness  of  Rome  was  due. 
He  quotes  the  sentence  of  Sallust : 
‘ Ci  vitas,  incredibile  memoratu  est, 
adepti  libertate  quantum  brevi 
creverit,  tunta  enpido  gloriae  inces- 
ser.it ; and  adds : ‘ Ista  ergo  laudis 
aviditas  et  eupido  gloriae  multa 
ilia  miranda  fecit,  laudabilb  scili- 
cet atque  gloi'iosa  secundum  homi- 


num  existimationem  . . . causa 
honoris,  laudis  et  gloriae  consulue- 
runt  patriae,  in  qua  ipsam  gloriam 
requirebant,  salutemque  ejus  salut.i 
suae  praeponere  non  dubitaverunt, 
pro  isto  uno  vitio,  id  est,  amoie 
laudis,  pecuniae  cupiditatem  et 
multa  alia  vitia  comprimentes.  . , 
Quid  aliud  amarent  quam  gloriam, 
qua  volebant  etiam  post  mortem 
tanquam  vivere  in  ore  laudantiuw  ?' 
— De  Civ.  Dei , v.  12-13, 


PROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE. 


147 


mucn  historians  may  desire  to  extend  their  researches  to  the 
private  and  domestic  virtues  of  a people,  civic  virtues  are 
always  those  which  must  appear  most  prominently  in  their 
pages.  History  is  concerned  only  with  large  bodies  of  men. 
The  systems  of  philosophy  or  religion  which  produce  splendid 
results  on  the  great  theatre  of  public  life  are  fully  and  easily 
appreciated,  and  readers  and  writers  are  both  liable  to  give 
them  very  undue  advantages  over  those  systems  which  do 
not  favour  civic  virtues,  but  exercise  their  beneficial  influence 
in  the  more  obscure  fields  of  individual  self-culture,  domestic 
morals,  or  private  charity.  If  valued  by  the  self-sacrifice 
they  imply,  or  by  their  effects  upon  human  happiness,  these 
iast  rank  very  high,  but  they  scarcely  appear  in  history,  and 
they  therefore  seldom  obtain  their  due  weight  in  historical 
compai'isons.  Christianity  has,  I think,  suffered  peculiarly 
from  this  cause.  Its  moral  action  has  always  been  much 
more  powerful  upon  individuals  than  upon  societies,  and  the 
spheres  in  which  its  superiority  over  other  religions  is  most 
incontestable,  are  precisely  those  which  history  is  least 
capable  of  realising. 

In  attempting  to  estimate  the  moral  condition  of  the 
Roman  and  Byzantine  Empires  during  the  Christian  period, 
and  before  the  old  civilisation  had  been  dissolved  by  the 
barbarian  or  Mohammedan  invasions,  we  must  continually 
bear  this  last  consideration  in  mind.  We  must  remember, 
too,  that  Christianity  had  acquired  an  ascendancy  among 
nations  which  were  already  deeply  tainted  by  the  inveterate 
vices  of  a corrupt  and  decaying  civilisation,  and  also  that 
many  of  the  censors  from  whose  pages  we  are  obliged  to 
form  our  estimate  of  the  age  were  men  who  judged  human 
frailties  with  all  the  fastidiousness  of  ascetics,  and  who  ex- 
pressed their  j udgments  with  all  the  declamatory  exaggeration 
of  the  pulpit.  Modern  critics  will  probably  not  lay  much 
stress  upon  the  relapse  of  the  Christians  into  the  ordinary 
dress  and  usages  of  the  luxurious  society  about  them,  upon 


148 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


the  ridicule  thrown  by  Christians  on  those  who  still  adhered 
to  the  primitive  austerity  of  the  sect,  or  upon  the  fact  that 
multitudes  who  were  once  mere  nominal  Pagans  had  become 
mere  nominal  Christians.  We  find,  too,  a frequent  disposi- 
tion on  the  part  of  moralists  to  single  out  some  new  form  of 
luxury,  or  some  trivial  custom  which  they  regarded  as  indeco- 
rous, for  the  most  extravagant  denunciation,  and  to  magnify 
its  importance  in  a manner  which  in  a later  age  it  is  difficult 
even  to  understand.  Examples  of  this  kind  may  be  found 
both  in  Pagan  and  in  Christian  writings,  and  they  form  an 
extremely  curious  page  in  the  history  of  morals.  Thus 
Juvenal  exhausts  his  vocabulary  of  invective  in  denouncing 
the  atrocious  criminality  of  a certain  noble,  who  in  the  very 
year  of  his  consulship  did  not  hesitate — not,  ii  is  true,  by 
day,  but  at  least  in  the  sight  of  the  moon  and  of  the  stars — - 
with  his  own  hand  to  drive  his  own  chariot  along  the  public 
road.1  Seneca  was  scarcely-  less  scandalised  by  the  atrocious 
and,  as  ho  thought,  unnatural  luxury  of  those  who  had 
adopted  the  custom  of  cooling  different  beverages  by  mixing 
them  with  snow.2  Pliny  assures  us  that  the  most  monstrous 
of  all  criminals  was  the  man  who  first  devised  the  luxurious 
custom  of  wearing  golden  rings.3  Apuleius  was  compelled 
to  defend  himself  for  having  eulogised  tooth-powder,  and  ho 
did  so,  among  other  ways,  by  arguing  that  nature  has  justified 
this  form  of  propriety,  for  crocodiles  were  known  periodically 
to  leave  the  waters  of  the  Nile,  and  to  lie  with  open  jaws 


‘Praeter  majorum  eineres  atque 
ossa,  volucri 

Carpento  rapitur  pinguis  Dama- 
sippus  et  ipse, 

Ipsa  rotam  stringit  multo  suffla- 
mine  consul ; 

Nocte  quidem  ; sed  luna  videt, 
sed  s id  era  testes 

Intendunt  oeulos.  Finitum  tem- 
pus  honoris 


(funm  fnerit,  clnra  Damasippus 
luce  flagellum 

Sumet.’ — Juvenal,  Sat.  viii.  14C>. 

2 Nat.  Qaosst.  iv.  13.  Ep.  78. 

9 ‘ Pessimum  vitae  sceltis  fecit, 
qm  id  [aurum]  primus  induit  di 
gitis.  . . . quisquis  primus  instituit 
cunetanter  id  fecit,  laevisque  mani- 
bus,  latentibusque  induit.’ — Plin 
Hist.  Nat.  xxxiii.  4. 


FROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE.  149 

apon  tLe  baDks,  -while  a certain  bird  proceeds  with  its  beak 
fco  clean  their  teeth.1  If  we  were  to  measure  the  criminality 
of  different  customs  by  the  vehemence  of  the  patristic  denun- 
ciations, we  might  almost  conclude  that  the  most  atrocious 
offence  of  their  day  was  the  custom  of  wearing  false  hair, 
or  dyeing  natural  hair.  Clement  of  Alexandria  questioned 
whether  the  validity  of  certain  ecclesiastical  ceremonies 
might  not  be  affected  by  wigs ; for,  he  asked,  when  the  priest 
is  placing  his  hand  on  the  head  of  the  person  who  kneels 
before  him,  if  that  hand  is  resting  upon  false  hair,  who  is  it 
he  is  really  blessing  1 Tertullian  shuddered  at  the  thought 
that  Christians  might  have  the  hail'  of  those  who  were  in  hell, 
upon  their  heads,  and  he  found  in  the  tiers  of  false  hair  that 
were  in  use  a distinct  rebellion  against  the  assertion  that  no 
one  can  add  to  his  stature,  and,  in  the  custom  of  dyeing  the 
hair,  a contravention  of  the  declaration  that  man  cannot 
make  one  hair  white  or  black.  Centuries  rolled  away.  The 
Roman  Empire  tottered  to  its  fall,  and  floods  of  vice  and 
sorrow  overspread  the  world ; but  still  the  denunciations  of 
the  Fathers  were  unabated.  St.  Ambrose,  St.  Jerome,  and 
St.  Gregory  Nazianzen  continued  with  uncompromising  vehe- 
mence the  war  against  false  hair,  which  Tertullian  and 
Clement  of  Alexandria  had  begun.2 

But  although  the  vehemence  of  the  Fathers  on  such  tr  ivial 
matters  might  appear  at  first  s'ght  to  imply  the  existence  of 
a society  in  which  grave  corruption  was  rare,  such  a conclu- 
sion would  be  totally  untrue.  After  every  legitimate  allow- 
ance has  been  made,  the  pictures  of  Roman  society  by  Ant- 
nr  i anus  Marcellinus,  of  the  society  of  Marseilles,  by  Salvian, 
of  the  society  of  Asia  Minor,  and  of  Constantinople,  by 
Chrysostom,  as  well  as  the  whole  tenor  of  the  history,  and 

1 See  a curious  passage  in  his  2 The  history  of  false  hair  has 
Apologia.  It  should  be  said  that  been  written  with  much  learning 

we  have  only  his  own  account  of  by  M.  Guerle  in  his  Eloge  dcs  Per - 
the  charges  brought  against  him.  ruques. 


42 


150 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


innumerable  incidental  notices  in  the  writers,  of  the  time, 
exhibit  a condition  of  depravity,  and  especially  of  degrada- 
tion, which  has  seldom  been  surpassed.1  The  corruption  had 
reached  classes  and  institutions  that  appeared  the  most  holy. 
The  Agapre,  or  love  feasts,  which  formed  one  of  the  most 
touching  symbols  of  Christian  unity,  had  become  scenes  of 
drunkenness  and  of  riot.  Denounced  by  the  Fathers,  con- 
demned by  the  Council  of  Laodicea  in  the  fourth  century, 
and  afterwards  by  the  Council  of  Carthage,  they  lingered  as 
a scandal  and  an  offence  till  they  were  finally  suppressed  by 
the  Council  of  Trullo,  at  the  end  of  the  seventh  century.2 
The  commemoration  of  the  martyrs  soon  degenerated  into 
scandalous  dissipation.  Fairs  were  held  on  the  occasion, 
gross  breaches  of  chastity  were  frequent,  and  the  annual  fes- 
tival was  suppressed  on  account  of  the  immorality  it  pro- 
duced.3 The  ambiguous  position  of  the  clergy  with  reference 
to  marr  iage  already  led  to  grave  disorder.  In  the  time  of 
St.  Cyprian,  before  the  outbreak  of  the  Decian  persecution, 
it  had  been  common  to  find  clergy  professing  celibacy,  but 
keeping,  under  various  pretexts,  their  mistresses  in  their 
houses  ;4  and,  after  Constantine,  the  complaints  on  this  sub- 
ject became  loud  and  general.5  V irgins  and  monks  often  lived 
together  in  the  same  house,  professing  sometimes  to  share  in 


1 The  fullest  view  of  this  age  is 
given  in  a very  learned  little  work 
by  Poter  Erasmus  Muller  (1797), 
De  Genio  JEvi  Tlieodosiani.  Mont- 
faucon  has  also  devoted  two  essays 
to  the  moral  condition  of  the  East- 
ern world,  one  of  which  is  given  in 
Jortin’s  Remarks  on  Ecclesiastical 
History. 

'l  See  on  these  abuses  Mosheim, 

Reel.  Hist.  (Soame’s  ed.),  vol.  i.  p. 

163;  Cave’s  Primitive  Christianity, 
part  i.  ch.  xi. 

* Cave’s  Primitive  Christianity , 


part  i.  eh.  vii. 

* Ep.  lxi. 

5 Evagrius  describes  wit ,’n  much 
admiration  how  certain  monks  of 
Palestine,  by  ‘a  life  wholly  excel- 
lent and  divine,’  had  so  overcome 
their  passions  that  they  were  ac- 
customed to  bathe  with  women  ; 
for  ‘ neither  sight  nor  touch,  nor  a 
woman’s  embrace,  could  make  them 
relapse  into  their  natural  condition. 
Among  men  they  desired  to  be 
men,  and  among  women,  women. 
(//.  E.  i.  21.) 


FROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE.  151 


chastity  the  same  heel.1  Rich  widows  were  surrounded  by 
Bwarrns  of  clerical  sycophants,  who  addressed  them  in  tender 
diminutives,  studied  and  consulted  their  every  foible,  aud, 
under  the  guise  of  piety,  lay  in  wait  for  their  gifts  or  ho 
quests.2  The  evil  attained  such  a jioint  that  a law  was 
made  under  Valentinian  depriving  the  Christian  piiests 
snd  monks  of  that  power  of  receiving  legacies  which  was 
possessed  by  every  other  class  of  the  community ; and  St. 
Jerome  has  mournfully  acknowledged  that  the  prohibition 
was  necessary.3  Great  multitudes  entered  the  Chiu-ch  to 
avoid  municipal  offices  ; 4 the  deserts  were  crowded  with  men 
whose  sole  object  was  to  escape  from  honest  labour,  and  even 
soldiers  used  to  desert  their  colours  for  the  monasteries.5 


1 These  ‘ mulieres  subintro- 
duetae,’  as  they  were  called,  are 
continually  noticed  by  Cyprian, 
Jerome,  and  Chrysostom.  See 
Muller,  Dc  Genio  Mvi  Theodosiani, 
and  also  the  Codex  Thcod.  xvi.  tit. 
ii  lex  4-1,  with  the  Comments.  Dr. 
Todd,  in  his  learned  Life  of  St. 
Patrick  (p.  91),  quotes  (I  shall  not 
venture  to  do  so)  from  the  Lives  of 
the  Irish  Saints  an  extremely  curi- 
ous legend  of  a kind  of  contest  of 
sanctity  between  St.  Seuthinus  and 
St. Brendan,  in  whicn  it  was  clearly 
proved  that  the  former  had  mas- 
tered his  passions  more  completely 
than  the  latter.  An  enthusiast 
named  Robert  d’ Arbrissellf  s is  said 
in  the  twelfth  century  to  have  re- 
vived the  custom.  (Jortin’s  Re- 
marks, a.d.  1106.) 

- St.  Jerome  gives  ( Ep . lii.)  an 
extremely  curious  picture  of  these 
clerical  flatterers,  and  several  ex- 
amples of  the  terms  of  endearment 
they  were  accustomed  to  employ. 
The  tone  of  flattery  which  St.  Je- 
rome himself,  though  doubtless 
with  the  purest  motives,  employs 


in  his  copious  correspondence  with 
his  female  admirers,  is  to  a modern 
layman  peculiarly  repulsive,  aud 
sometimes  verges  upon  blasphemy. 
In  his  letter  to  Eustoehium,  whose 
daughter  as  a nun  had  become  the 
‘ bride  of  Christ,’  he  calls  the 
mother  ‘ Socrus  Dei,'  the  mother- 
in-law  of  God.  See,  too,  the  ex- 
travagant flatteries  of  Chrysostom 
in  his  correspondence  with  Olym- 
pias. 

3 ‘ Pudet  diccre  saeerdotes  ido- 
lorum,  mimi  et  aurigse  et  scorta 
haereditates  capiunt ; solis  cleri- 
cis  et  monachis  hoc  lege  pro- 
hibetur,  et  prohibetur  non  a perse- 
cutoribus,  sed  a principibus  Chris- 
tianis.  Nee  de  lege  conqueror  sed 
doleo  cur  meruerimus  hanc  legem.’ 
Ep.  lii. 

4 See  Milma.n’s  Hist,  of  Early 
Christianity,  vol.  ii.  p.  314. 

5 This  was  one  cause  of  the 
disputes  between  St.  Gregory  the 
Great  and  the  Emperor  Eustace. 
St.  Chrysostom  frequently  notices 
the  opposition  of  the  military  and 
the  monastic  spirits. 


152 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


Noble  ladies,  pretending  a desire  to  lead  a higher  life,  aban- 
doned their  husbands  to  live  with  low-born  lovers. 1 2 Pales- 
tine, which  was  soon  crowded  with  pilgrims,  had  become, 
in  the  time  of  St.  Gregory  of  Nyssa,  a hotbed  of  debauchery.1 
The  evil  reputation  of  pilgrimages  long  continued;  and  in 
the  eighth  century  we  find  St.  Boniface  writing  to  the  Arch- 
bishop of  Canterbury,  imploring  the  bishops  to  take  some 
measures  to  restrain  or  regulate  the  pilgrimages  of  their 
follow-countrywomen;  for  there  were  few  towns  in  central 
Europe,  on  the  way  to  Borne,  where  English  ladies,  who 
started  as  pilgrims,  were  not  living  in  open  prostitution.3 
The  luxury  and  ambition  of  the  higher  prelates,  and  the  pas- 
sion for  amusements  of  the  inferior  priests,4  were  bitterly 
acknowledged.  St.  Jerome  complained  that  the  banquets  of 
many  bishops  eclipsed  in  splendour  those  of  the  provincial 
governors,  and  the  intrigues  by  which  they  obtained  offices, 
and  the  fierce  partisanship  of  their  supporters,  appear  in  every 
page  of  ecclesiastical  history. 

In  the  lay  world,  perhaps  the  chief  characteristic  was  ex- 
treme childishness.  The  moral  enthusiasm  was  greater  than 
it  had  been  in  most  periods  of  Paganism,  but,  being  drawn 
away  to  the  desert,  it  had  little  influence  upon  society.  The 


1 Hieron.  Ep.  cxxviii. 

2 St.  Greg.  Nyss.  Ad  eund. 
Hieros.  Some  Catholic  writers 
have  attempted  to  throw  doubt 
upon  the  genuineness  of  this  epistle, 
but,  Dean  Milman  thinks,  with  no 
sufficient  reason.  Its  account  of 
Jerusalem  is  to  some  extent  corro- 
borated by  St.  Jerome.  ( Ad  Pauli- 
nwm , Ep.  xxix.) 

3 ‘ Prseterea  non  taceo  charitati 
vestrae,  quia  omnibus  servis  I)ei  qui 
hie  vel  in  Scriptura  vel  in  timore  Dei 
probatissimi  esse  videntur,  displicet 
quod  bonum  et  honestas  et  pudici- 

lia  vestrse  ecclesise  illuditur;  et 


aliquod  levamentum  turpitudinis 
esset,  si  prohi  beret  synodus  et 
principes  vestri  mulieribus  et  ve- 
latis  feminis  illud  iter  et  frequen- 
tiam,  quani  ad  Romanam  civitat.em 
veniendoet  redeundo  faciunt,  quia 
magna  ex  parte  pereunt,  pauci* 
remeantibus  integris.  Perpauc;* 
enim  sunt  civitates  in  Longobardia 
vel  in  Francia  aut  in  Gallia  in  qua 
non  sit  adultera  vel  meretrix  gene- 
ris Anplorum,  quod  seandalum  est 
et  turpitudo  totius  ecclesiae  vea 
trae.’ — (a.i>.  74.5)  Ep.  lxiii. 

4  See  Milman’s  Latin  Chri» 
tianity,  voi.  ii.  p.  8. 


FROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE. 


153 


simple  fact  that  tlie  quarrels  between  the  factions  of  the 
chariot  races  for  a long  period  eclipsed  all  political,  intellec- 
tual, and  even  religious  differences,  filled  the  streets  again 
and  again  with  bloodshed,  and  more  than  once  determined 
great  revolutions  in  the  State,  is  sufficient  to  show  the  extent 
of  the  decadence.  Patriotism  and  courage  had  almost  disap- 
peared, and,  notwithstanding  the  rise  of  a Beb'sarius  or  a 
Nurses,  the  level  of  public  men  was  extremely  depressed. 
The  luxury  of  the  court,  the  servility  of  the  corn-tiers,  and  the 
prevailing  splendour  of  dress  and  of  ornament,  had  attained  an 
extravagant  height.  The  world  grew  accustomed  to  a dan- 
gerous alternation  of  extreme  asceticism  and  gross  vice,  and 
sometimes,  as  in  the  case  of  Antioch,1  the  most  vicious  and 
luxurious  cities  produced  the  most  numerous  anchorites. 
There  existed  a combination  of  vice  and  superstition  which  is 
eminently  prejudicial  to  the  nobility,  though  not  equally  de- 
trimental to  the  happiness,  of  man.  Public  opinion  was  so 
low,  that  very  many  forms  of  vice  attracted  little  condemna- 
tion and  punishment,  while  undoubted  belief  in  the  absolvmg 
efficacy  of  superstitious  rites  calmed  the  imagination  and 
allayed  the  terrors  of  conscience.  There  was  more  false- 
hood and  treachery  than  under  the  Caesars,  but  there  was 
much  less  cruelty,  violence,  and  shamelessness.  There  was 
also  less  public  spirit,  less  independence  of  character,  less 
intellectual  freedom. 

In  some  respects,  however,  Christianity  had  already 
effected  a great  improvement.  The  gladiatorial  games  had 
disappeared  from  the  West,  and  had  not  been  introduced 
into  Constantinople.  The  vast  schools  of  prostitution  which 
had  grown  up  under  the  name  of  temples  of  Venus  were  sup- 
pressed. Religion,  however  deformed  and  debased,  was  at 
least  no  longer  a seedplot  of  depravity,  and  under  the  in- 
fluence of  Christianity  the  effrontery  of  vice  had  in  a great 


* Tilluuiont,  Hist.  eccl.  tome  xi.  p.  547. 


154 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


measure  disappeared.  The  gross  and  extravagant  indecency 
of  representation,  of  which  we  have  still  examples  in  the 
paintings  on  the  walls,  and  the  signs  on  many  of  the  portals 
of  Pompeii ; the  banquets  of  rich  patricians,  served  by  naked 
gh  Is ; the  hideous  excesses  of  unnatural  lust,  in  which  some 
of  the  Pagan  emperors  had  indulged  with  so  much  publicity, 
were  no  longer  tolerated.  Although  sensuality  was  very 
general,  it  was  less  obtrusive,  and  unnatural  and  eccentric 
forms  had  become  rare.  The  presence  of  a great  Church, 
which,  amid  much  superstition  and  fanaticism,  still  taught  a 
pure  morality,  and  enforced  it  by  the  strongest  motives,  was 
everywhere  felt — controlling,  strengthening,  or  overawing. 
The  ecclesiastics  were  a great  body  in  the  State.  The  cause 
of  virtue  was  strongly  organised  • it  drew  to  itself  the  best 
men,  determined  the  course  of  vacillating  but  amiable  na- 
tures, and  placed  some  restraint  upon  the  vicious.  A bad 
man  might  be  insensible  to  the  moral  beauties  of  religion, 
but  he  was  still  haunted  by  the  recollection  of  its  threaten- 
ings.  If  he  emancipated  himself  from  its  influence  in  health 
and  prosperity,  its  power  returned  in  periods  of  sickness  or 
danger,  or  on  the  eve  of  the  commission  of  some  great  crime. 
If  he  had  nerved  himself  against  all  its  terrors,  he  was  at  least 
checked  and  governed  at  every  turn  by  the  public  opinion 
which  it  had  created.  That  total  absence  of  all  restraint, 
all  decency,  and  all  fear  and  remorse,  which  had  been  evinced 
by  some  of  the  monsters  of  crime  who  occupied  the  Pagan 
throne,  and  which  proves  most  strikingly  the  decay  of  the 
Pagan  religion,  was  no  longer  possible.  The  virtue  of  the 
best  Pagans  was  perhaps  of  as  high  an  order  as  that  of  the 
best  Christians,  though  it  was  of  a somewhat  different  type, 
but  the  vice  of  the  worst  Pagans  certainly  far  exceeded  that 
of  the  worst  Christians.  The  pulpit  had  become  a powerful 
centre  of  attraction,  and  charities  of  many  kinds  were  actively 
developed. 

The  moral  effects  of  the  first  great  outburst  of  asceticism 


FKOM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE. 


155 


bo  far  as  we  have  yet  traced  them,  appear  almost  unmingled 
evils.  In  addition  to  the  essentially  distorted  ideal  of  perfec- 
tion it  produced,  the  simple  withdrawal  from  active  life  of 
that  moral  enthusiasm,  which  is  the  leaven  of  society,  was 
extremely  pernicious,  and  there  can  be  little  ioubt  that  to 
tliis  cause  we  must  in  a great  degree  attribute  the  conspicuous 
failure  of  the  Church,  for  some  centuries,  to  effect  any  more 
considerable  amelioration  in  the  moral  condition  of  Europe. 
There  were,  however,  some  distinctive  excellences  springing 
even  from  the  first  phase  of  asceticism,  which,  although  they 
do  not,  as  I conceive,  suffice  to  counterbalance  these  evils, 
may  justly  qualify  our  censure. 

The  first  condition  of  all  really  great  moral  excellence  is 
a spirit  of  genuine  self-sacrifice  and  self-renunciation.  The 
habits  of  compromise,  moderation,  reciprocal  self-restraint, 
gentleness,  courtesy,  and  refinement,  which  are  appropriate 
to  luxurious  or  utilitarian  civilisations,  are  very  favourable 
to  the  development  of  many  secondary  virtues ; but  there  is  in 
human  nature  a capacity  for  a higher  and  more  heroic  reach 
of  excellence,  which  demands  very  different  spheres  for  its 
display,  accustoms  men  to  far  nobler  aims,  and  exercises  a 
far  greater  attractive  influence  upon  mankind.  Imperfect 
and  distorted  as  was  the  ideal  of  the  anchorite ; deeply,  too, 
as  it  was  perverted  by  the  admixture  of  a spiritual  selfish- 
ness, still  the  example  of  many  thousands,  who,  in  obedience 
to  what  they  believed  to  be  right,  voluntarily  gave  up  e very 
thing  that  men  hold  dear,  cast  to  the  winds  every  compro- 
mise with  enjoyment,  and  made  extreme  self-abnegation  the 
very  principle  of  their  lives,  was  not  wholly  lost  upon  the 
world.  At  a time  when  increasing  riches  had  profoundly 
tainted  the  Church,  they  taught  men  ‘to  love  labour  more 
than  rest,  and  ignominy  more  than  glory,  and  to  give  more  than 
x>  receive.’ 1 At  a time  when  the  passion  for  ecclesiastical 

1 This  was  enjoined  in  the  rule  of  St.  Paplmutius.  See  Tillemont, 
Lome  x.  p>.  45. 


156 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


dignities  had  become  the  scandal  of  the  Empire,  they  system- 
atically abstained  from  them,  teaching,  in  their  quaint  but 
energetic  language,  that  ‘ there  are  two  classes  a monk  should 
especially  avoid — bishops  and  women.’1  The  very  eccen- 
tricities of  their  lives,  their  uncouth  forms,  their  honible 
penances,  won  the  admiration  of  rude  men,  and  the  supersti- 
tious reverence  thus  excited  gradually  passed  to  the  charity 
und  the  self-denial  which  formed  the  higher  elements  of  the 
monastic  character.  Multitudes  of  barbarians  were  converted 
to  Christianity  at  the  sight  of  St.  Simeon  Stylites.  The  hermit, 
too,  was  speedily  idealised  by  the  popular  imagination.  The 
more  repulsive  features  of  his  life  and  appearance  were  forgot- 
ten. He  was  thought  of  only  as  an  old  man  with  long  white 
beard  and  gentle  aspect,  weaving  his  mats  beneath  the  palm- 
trees,  while  daemons  vainly  tried  to  distract  him  by  their  strata- 
gems, and  the  wild  beasts  grew  tame  in  his  presence,  and  every 
disease  and  every  sorrow  vanished  at  liis  word.  The  imagi- 
nation of  Christendom,  fascinated  by  this  ideal,  made  it  the 
centre  of  countless  legends,  usually  very  childish,  and  occa- 
sionally, as  we  have  seen,  worse  than  childish,  yet  full  of 
beautiful  touches  of  human  nature,  and  often  conveying  ad- 
mirable moral  lessons.2  Nursery  tales,  which  first  determine 
the  course  of  the  infant  imagination,  play  no  inconsiderable 
part  in  the  history  of  humanity.  In  the  fable  of  Psyche — 


1 ‘ Omnimodis  monachum  fu- 
gere  debere  mulieres  et  episcopos.’ 
— Cassian,  De  Ccenob.  Inst.  xi.  17. 

2 We  also  find  now  and  then, 
though  I think  very  rarely,  intel- 
lectual flashes  of  some  brilliancy. 
Two  of  them  strike  me  as  especially 
noteworthy.  St.  Arseni  us  refused 
to  separate  young  criminals  from 
communion  though  he  had  no 
hesitation  about  old  men  ; for  he 
had  observed  that  young  men 
upoedily  get  accustomed  and  in- 


different to  the  state  of  excom- 
munication, while  old  men  feel 
continually,  and  acutely,  the  sepa- 
ration. (Socrates,  iv.  23/  St. 
Apollonius  explained  the  Egyptian 
idolatry  with  the  most  intelligent- 
rationalism.  The  ox,  he  thought, 
was  in  the  first  instance  worshipped 
for  its  domestic  uses;  the  Nile, 
because  it  was  the  chief  cause  of 
the  fertility  of  the  soil,  &c.  (Ru 
films,  Hist.  Mon.  cap.  vii.) 


FROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE. 


157 


that  bright  tale  of  passionate  love  -with  which  the  13 reek 
mother  lulled  her  child  to  rest — Pagan  antiquity  has  be- 
queathed us  a single  specimen  of  transcendent  beauty,  and  the 
lives  of  the  saints  of  the  desert  often  exhibit  an  imagination 
different  indeed  in  kind,  but  scarcely  less  brilliant  in  its  dis- 
play, St.  Antony,  we  are  told,  was  thinking  one  night  that 
he  was  the  best  man  in  the  desert,  when  it  was  revealed  to 
him  that  there  was  another  hermit  far  holier  than  himself.  In 
the  morning  he  started  across  the  desert  to  visit  this  unknown 
saint.  He  met  first  of  all  a centaur,  and  afterwards  a little 
man  with  horns  and  goat’s  feet,  who  said  that  he  was  a faun  ; 
and  these,  having  pointed  out  the  way,  lie  arrived  at  last  at 
his  destination.  St.  Paul  the  hermit,  at  whose  cell  he  stopped, 
was  one  hundred  and  thirteen  years  old,  and,  having  been 
living  for  a very  long  period  in  absolute  solitude,  he  at  first 
refused  to  admit  the  visitor,  but  at  last  consented,  embraced 
him,  and  began,  with  a very  pardonable  curiosity,  to  question 
liirn  minutely  about  the  world  he  had  left ; ‘ whether  there 
was  much  new  building  in  the  towns,  what  empire  ruled  the 
world,  whether  there  were  any  idolaters  remaining!’  The 
colloquy  was  interrupted  by  a crow,  which  came  with  a loaf 
of  bread,  and  St.  Paul,  observing  that  during  the  last  sixty 
years  his  daily  allowance  had  been  only  half  a loaf,  declared 
that  this  was  a proof  that  he  had  done  right  in  admitting 
Antony.  The  hermits  returned  thanks,  and  sat  down  to- 
gether by  the  margin  of  a glassy  stream.  But  now  a diffi- 
culty arose.  Neither  could  bring  himself  to  break  the  loaf 
before  the  other.  St.  Paul  alleged  that  St.  Antony,  being 
liis  guest,  should  take  the  precedence;  but  St.  Antony,  who 
was  only  ninety  years  old,  dwelt  upon  the  greater  age  of  St. 
Paul.  So  scrupulously  polite  were  these  old  men,  that  they 
passed  the  on  the  afternoon  disputing  on  this  weighty  ques- 
tion, till  at  last,  when  the  evening  was  drawing  in,  a happy 
thought  struck  them,  and,  each  holding  one  end  of  the  loaf, 
they  pulled  together.  To  abridge  the  story,  St.  Paid  soon 


158 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


died,  and  Ids  companion,  being  a weak  old  man,  was  unable 
to  bury  him,  when  two  lions  came  from  the  desert  and  dug 
the  grave  with  their  paws,  deposited  the  body  in  it,  raised  a 
loud  howl  of  lamentation,  and  then  knelt  down  submissively 
before  St.  Antony,  to  beg  a blessing.  The  authority  for  this 
history  is  no  less  a person  than  St.  Jerome,  who  relates  it  as 
lilerally  true,  and  intersperses  his  narrative  with  seveie 
reflections  on  all  who  might  cpiestion  his  accuracy. 

The  historian  Palladius  assures  us  that  he  heard  from 
the  lips  of  St.  Macarius  of  Alexandria  an  account  of  a pil- 
grimage which  that  saint  had  made,  under  the  impulse  of 
curiosity,  to  visit  the  enchanted  garden  of  Jannes  and  Jam- 
lues,  tenanted  by  daemons.  For  nine  days  Macarius  traversed 
the  desert,  directing  his  course  by  the  stars,  and,  from  time 
to  time,  fixing  reeds  in  the  ground,  as  landmarks  for  his 
return  ; but  this  precaution  proved  useless,  for  the  devils 
tore  up  the  reeds,  and  placed  them  during  the  night  by  the 
head  of  the  sleeping  saint.  As  lie  drew  near  the  garden, 
seventy  daemons  of  various  forms  came  forth  to  meet  him, 
and  reproached  him  for  disturbing  them  in  their  home.  St. 
Macarius  promised  simply  to  walk  round  and  inspect  the 
wonders  of  the  garden,  and  then  depart  without  doing  it 
any  injury.  He  fulfilled  his  promise,  and  a journey  of  twenty 
days  brought  him  again  to  his  cell.1  Other  legends  are, 
however,  of  a less  fantastic  nature ; and  many  of  them 
display,  though  sometimes  in  very  whimsical  forms,  a spirit 
of  courtesy  which  seems  to  foreshadow  the  later  chivalry, 
and  some  of  them  contain  striking  protests  against  the  very 
superstitions  that  were  most  prevalent.  When  St.  Macarius 
was  sick,  a bunch  of  grapes  was  once  given  to  him ; but  his 
charity  impelled  him  to  give  them  to  another  hermit,  who  in 
his  turn  refused  to  keep  them,  and  at  last,  having  made  the 
circuit  of  the  entire  desert,  they  were  returned  to  the  saint  J 


1 Palladius,  Hist.  Laus.  cap. 


2 Ilufinus,  Hist.  Monach.  cap 


FROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE. 


159 


The  same  saint,  whose  usual  beverage  was  putrid  water, 
never  failed  to  drink  wine  when  set  before  him  by  Ibe 
hermits  he  visited,  atoning  privately  for  this  relaxation, 
which  he  thought'  the  laws  of  courtesy  required,  by  ab 
staining  from  water  for  as  many  days  as  he  had  drunk 
glasses  of  wine.1  One  of  his  disciples  once  meeting  an 
idolatrous  priest  running  in  great  haste  across  the  desert, 
with  a great  stick  in  his  hand,  cried  out  in  a loud  voice, 
‘ Where  are  you  going,  daemon  1 ’ The  priest,  naturally 
indignant,  beat  the  Christian  severely,  and  was  proceeding 
on  his  way,  when  he  met  St.  Macarius,  who  accosted  him 
so  courteously  and  so  tenderly  that  the  Pagan’s  heart  was 
touched,  he  became  a convert,  and  his  first  act  of  charity 
was  to  tend  the  Christian  whom  he  had  beaten.2  St.  Avitus 
being  on  a visit  to  St.  Marcian,  this  latter  saint  placed  before 
him  some  bread,  which  Avitus  refused  to  eat,  saying  that 
it  was  his  custom  never  to  touch  food  till  after  sunset.  St. 
Marcian,  professing  his  own  inability  to  defer  his  repast, 
implored  his  guest  for  once  to  break  this  custom,  and  being 
refused,  exclaimed,  * Alas ! I am  filled  with  anguish  that  you 
hav  e come  here  to  see  a wise  man  and  a saint,  and  you  see 
only  a glutton.’  St.  Avitus  was  grieved,  and  said,  ‘ he 
would  rather  even  eat  flesh  than  hear  such  words,’  and 
he  sat  down  as  desired.  St.  Marcian  then  confessed  that  his 
own  custom  was  the  same  as  that  of  his  brother  saint ; ‘ but,’ 
he  added,  ‘ we  know  that  charity  is  better  than  fasting ; for 
charity  is  enjoined  by  the  Divine  law,  but  fasting  is  left  in 
our  own  power  and  will.’ 3 St.  Epiphanius  having  invited 
St.  Hilaries  to  his  cell,  placed  before  him  a dish  of  fowl. 
‘ Pardon  me,  father,’  said  St.  Hilarius,  ‘ but  since  I have 
become  a monk  I have  never  eaten  flesh.’  ‘ And  I,’  said  St. 
Epiphanius,  ‘ since  I have  become  a monk  have  never  suffered 


1 Tillemont,  Hist.  cccl.  tome 

viii,  pp.  583,  584. 


2 Ibid.  p.  589. 

3 Tlicodoret,  Philnth.  cap.  iii. 


100 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


the  sun  to  go  down  upon  my  wrath.’  ‘ Your  rule/  rejoined 
the  other,  ‘is  more  excellent  than  mine.’1  While  a rich  lady 
was  courteously  fulfilling  the  duties  of  hospitality  to  a monk, 
her  child,  whom  she  had  for  this  purpose  left,  fell  into  a well. 
I t lay  unharmed  upon  the  surface  of  the  water,  and  after- 
wards told  its  mother  that  it  had  seen  the  arms  of  the  saint 
sustaining  it  below.2  At  a time  when  it  was  the  custom  to 
look  upon  the  marriage  state  with  profound  contempt,  it  was 
revealed  to  St.  Macarius  of  Egypt  that  two  married  women 
in  a neigh  homing  city  were  more  holy  than  he  was.  The 
saint  immediately  visited  them,  and  asked  their  mode  of 
life,  but  they  utterly  repudiated  the  notion  of  their  sanctity. 

‘ Holy  father,’  they  said,  ‘ suffer  us  to  tell  you  frankly  the 
truth.  Even  this  very  night  we  did  net  shrink  from  sleeping 
with  our  husbands,  and  what  good  works,  then,  can  you 
expect  from  us?’  The  saint,  however,  persisted  in  Iris  in- 
quiries,  and  they  then  tokl  him  their  stories.  ‘ We  are,’  they 
said,  ‘ m no  way  related,  but  we  married  two  brothel's.  We 
have  lived  together  for  fifteen  years,  without  one  licentious 
or  angry  word.  Wo  have  entreated  our  husbands  to  let  us 
leave  them,  to  join  the  societies  of  holy  virgins,  but  they 
refused  to  permit  us,  and  we  then  promised  before  Heaven 
that  no  worldly  word  should  sully  our  lips.’  ‘ Of  a truth,’ 
cried  St.  Macarius,  ‘ I see  that  God  regards  not  whether  one 
is  virgin  or  married,  whether  one  is  in  a monastery  or  in  the 
world.  He  considers  only  the  disposition  of  the  heart,  and 
gives  the  Spirit  to  all  who  desire  to  serve  Him,  whatever 
their  condition  may  be.’3 

I hare  multiplied  these  illustrations  to  an  extent  that 
must,  I fear,  have  already  somewhat  taxed  the  patience  of 
my  readers ; but  the  fact  that,  during  a long  period  of  history, 
these  saintly  legends  formed  the  ideals  guiding  the  imagina- 


1 Ve'ba  Scniormn.  3 Tillcniout,  tome  viii.  pp.  594, 

s Theodorut,  I’hilolh.  cap.  ii.  595. 


FROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE.  161 


tion  and  reflecting  the  moral  sentiment  of  the  Christian 
world,  gives  them  an  importance  far  beyond  their  intrinsic 
value.  Before  dismissing  the  saints  of  the  desert,  there  is 
one  other  class  of  legends  to  which  I desire  to  advert.  I 
mean  those  which  describe  the  connection  between  saints 
and  the  animal  world.  These  legends  are,  I think,  worthy  of 
special  notice  in  moral  history,  as  representing  the  tirst, 
and  at  the  same  time  one  of  the  most  striking  efforts  ever 
made  in  Christendom  to  inculcate  a feeling  of  kindness  and 
pity  towards  the  brute  creation.  In  Pagan  antiquity,  con- 
siderable steps  had  been  made  to  raise  this  form  of  humanity 
to  a recognised  branch  of  ethics.  The  way  had  been  pre- 
pared by  numerous  anecdotes  growing  for  the  most  part 
out  of  simple  ignorance  of  natural  history,  which  all  tended 
to  diminish  the  chasm  between  men  and  animals,  by  repre- 
senting the  latter  as  possessing  to  a very  high  degree  both 
moral  and  rational  qualities.  Elephants,  it  was  believed, 
were  endowed  not  only  with  reason  and  benevolence,  but 
also  with  reverential  feelings.  They  worshipped  the  sun  and 
moon,  and  in  the  forests  of  Mauritania  they  were  accustomed 
to  assemble  every  new  moon,  at  a certain  river,  to  perform 
religious  rites.'  The  hippopotamus  taught  men  the  medicinal 
value  of  bleeding,  being  accustomed,  when  affected  by  ple- 
thory,  to  bleed  itself  with  a thorn,  and  afterwards  close  the 
wound  with  slime.2  Pelicans  committed  suicide  to  feed  their 
young  ■ and  bees,  when  they  had  broken  the  laws  of  their 
sovereign.3  A temple  was  erected  at  Sestos  to  commemorate 
the  affection  of  an  eagle  which  loved  a young  girl,  and  upon 
her  death  cast  itself  in  despair  into  the  flames  by  which  her 
body  was  consumed.4  Numerous  anecdotes  are  related  of 

1 Pliny,  Hist.  Hat.  viii.  1.  This  habit  of  be.  s is  mentioned  by 

Many  anecdotes  of  elephants  are  St.  Ambrose.  The  pelican,  as  is 
cMlocted  viii.  1-12.  See,  too,  well  known,  afterwards  became  an 
Dion  Cassius,  xxxix.  38.  emblem  of  Christ. 

2 Pliny,  viii.  40.  4 Plin,  Hist.  Nat.  6, 

* Donne’s  Biathanatos,  p.  22. 


162 


HISTORY  OR  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


faithful  dogs  which  refused  to  survive  their  misters,  and  one 
of  these  had,  it  was  said,  been  transformed  into  the  dog-star.1 
The  dolphin,  especially,  became  the  subject  of  many  beautiful 
legends,  and  its  affection  for  its  young,  for  music,  and  abov  e 
all  for  little  children,  excited  the  admiration  not  only  of  the 
populace,  but  of  the  most  distinguished  naturalists.2  Many 
philosophers  ascribed  to  animals  a rational  soul,  like  that  ol 
man.  According  to  the  Pythagoreans,  human  sou's  transmi 
grate  after  death  into  animals.  According  to  the  Stoics  and 
others,  the  souls  of  men  and  animals  were  alike  parts  of  the 
all-pervading  Divine  Spirit  that  animates  the  world.3 

Wo  may  even  find  traces  from  an  early  period  of  a certain 
measure  of  legislative  protection  for  animals.  By  a very 
natural  process,  the  ox,  as  a principal  agent  in  agriculture, 
and  therefore  a kind  of  symbol  of  civilisation,  was  in  many  . 
different  countries  regarded  with  a peculiar  reverence.  The 
sanctity  attached  to  it  in  Egypt  is  well  known.  That  tender- 
ness to  animals,  which  is  one  of  the  most  beautiful  features 
in  the  Old  Testament  writings,  shows  itself,  among  other 
ways,  in  the  command  not  to  muzzle  the  ox  that  treadeth  out 
the  corn,  or  to  yoke  together  the  ox  and  the  ass.4  Among 
the  early  Romans  the  same  feeling  was  carried  so  far,  that 
for  a long  time  it  was  actually  a capital  offence  to  slaughter 
an  ox,  that  animal  being  pronounced,  in  a special  sense,  the 


1 A long  list  of  legends  about 
dogs  is  given  by  Legendre,  in  the 
wry  curious  chapter  on  animals,  in 
bis  Trade  dc  l' Opinion,  tome  i. 
pp.  308-327. 

2 Pliny  tells  some  extremely 
pretty  stories  of  this  kind.  {Hist. 
Nat.  ix.  S-Od  See,  too,  Aulus 
Gellius,  xvi.  10.  The  dolphin,  on 
account  of  its  love  for  its  young, 
became  a common  symbol  of  Christ 
among  the  early  Christians. 

3 A very  lull  account  of  the 

opinions,  both  of  ancient  and 


modern  philosophers,  concerning 
the  souls  of  animals,  is  given  by 
Bayle,  l)ict.  arts.  ‘ Pereira  E,’ 
‘ Rorarius  K.’ 

4  The  Jewish  law  did  not  con- 
fine its  care  to  oxen.  1 he  reader 
will  remember  the  touching  pro- 
vision, ‘Thou  shalt  not  seethe  a 
kid  in  bis  mother’s  milk  ’ (Dent 
xiv.  21);  and  the  law  forbidding 
men  to  take  a parent  bird  that  was 
sitting  on  its  young  or  on  its  eggs 
(Dent.  xxii.  G,  7.) 


FROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE. 


1G3 


fellow-labourer  of  man.'  A similar  law  is  said  to  have  in 
early  times  existed  in  Greece.2  The  beautiful  passage  in  which 
the  Psalmist  describes  how  the  sparrow  could  find  a shelter 
and  a home  in  the  altar  of  the  temple,  was  as  applicable  to 
Greece  as  to  Jerusalem  The  sentiment  of  Xenocrates  who, 
when  a bird  pursued  by  a hawk  took  ref  ge  in  his  breast, 
caressed  and  finally  released  it,  saying  to  his  disciples,  that  a 
good  man  should  never  give  up  a suppliant,3  was  believed  to 
be  shared  by  the  gods,  and  it  was  regarded  as  an  act  of  im- 
piety to  disturb  the  birds  who  had  built  their  nests  beneath 
the  porticoes  of  the  temple.4  A case  is  related  of  a child  who 
was  even  put  to  death  on  account  of  an  act  of  aggravated 
cruelty  to  birds.5 

The  general  tendency  of  nations,  as  they  advance  from 
a rude  and  warlike  to  a refined  and  peaceful  condition,  from 
the  stage  in  which  the  realising  powers  are  faint  and  dull,  to 
that  in  which  they  are  sensitive  and  vivid,  is  undoubtedly  to 
become  more  gentle  and  humane  in  their  actions ; but  this, 
like  all  other  general  tendencies  in  history,  may  be  counter- 
acted or  modified  by  many  special  circumstances.  The  law  I 


1 ‘ Cujus  tanta  fuit  apud  anti- 
quos  veneratio,  ut  tam  capital  esset 
bovem  necuisse  quam  civem.’ — - 
Columella,  lib.  vi.  in  procem.  ‘ Hie 
socius  hominum  in  rustico  opere  et 
Cereris  minister.  Ab  hoc  antiqui 
manus  ita  abstinere  voluerunt  ut 
capite  sanxerint  si  quis  oecidisset. 
— Varro,  Be  lie  Bustic.  lib.  ii.  cap. 
v. 

2 See  Legendre,  tome  ii.  p.  338. 
The  sword  with  which  the  priest 
sacrificed  the  ox  was  afterwards 
pronounced  accursed.  (JSlian, 
Hist.  Var.  lib.  viii.  cap.  iii.) 

s Diog.  Laert.  Xenocrates. 

4 There  is  a story  told  by 
Herodotus  (i.  157-159)  of  an  am- 
bassador who  was  sent  by  his  fel- 
low-countrymen to  consult  an  oracle 


at  Miletus  about  a suppliant  who 
had  taken  refuge  with  the  Cymseans 
and  was  demanded  with  menace  by 
his  enemies.  The  oracle,  being 
bribed,  enjoined  the  surrender. 
The  ambassador  on  leaving,  with 
seeming  carelessness  disturbed  the 
sparrows  under  the  portico  of  the 
temple,  when  tho  voice  from  behind 
the  altar  denounced  his  impiety  for 
disturbing  the  guests  of  the  gods. 
The  ambassador  replied  with  an  ob- 
vious and  withering  retort.  iElian 
says  (Hist.  Var.)  that  the  Athenians 
condemned  to  death  a boy  for  kill- 
ing a sparrow  that  had  taken 
refuge  in  the  temple  of  .(Esenia- 
pius. 

6 Quintilian,  Inst.  v.  9. 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


104: 


have  mentioned  abont  oxen  was  obviously  one  of  those  that 
belong  to  a very  early  stage  of  progress,  when  legislators  are 
labouring  to  form  agricultural  habits  among  a warlike  and 
nomadic  people.1  The  games  in  which  the  slaughter  of 
animals  bore  so  large  a part,  having  been  introduced  but  a 
little  before  the  extinction  of  the  republic,  did  very  much  to 
arrest  or  retard  the  natural  progress  of  humane  sentiments, 
in  ancient  Greece,  besides  the  bull-fights  of  Thessaly,  the 
combats  of  quails  and  cocks2  were  favourite  amusements, 
and  were  much  encouraged  by  the  legislators,  as  furnishing 
examples  of  valour  to  the  soldiers.  The  colossal  dimensions 
of  the  Roman  games,  the  circumstances  that  favoured  them, 
and  the  overwhelming  interest  they  speedily  excited,  I have 
described  in  a former  chapter.  We  have  seen,  however,  that, 
notwithstanding  the  gladiatorial  shows,  the  standard  of 
humanity  towards  men  was  considerably  raised  during  the 
Empire.  It  is  also  well  worthy  of  notice  that,  notwithstanding 


1 la  the  same  way  we  find 
several  chapters  in  the  Zcndavesta 
about  the  criminality  of  injuring 
dogs  ; which  is  explained  by  the 
great  importance  of  shepherd’s 
dogs  to  a pastoral  people. 

2 On  the  origin  of  Greek  cock- 
fighting,  seo  AElian,  Hist.  Var.  ii. 
28.  Many  particulars  about  it  are 
given  by  Athonseus.  Chrysippus 
maintained  that  cock-fighting  was 
the  final  cause  of  cocks,  these  birds 
being  made  by  Providouce  in  order 
to  inspire  us  by  the  example  of 
their  courage.  (Plutarch,  Dc  Repug. 
Stoic.)  The  Greeks  do  not,  how- 
ever, appear  to  have  known  ‘ cock- 
throwing,’  the  favourite  English 
game  of  throwing  a stick  called  a 
‘ cock-stick  ’ at  cocks.  It  was  a 
very  ancient  and  very  popular 
amusement,  and  was  practised 
especially  on  Shrove  Tuesday,  and 
by  school-boys.  Sir  Thomas  More 


had  been  famous  for  his  skill  in  it. 
(Strutt’s  Sports  and  Pastimes , p. 
283.)  Three  origins  of  it  have 
been  given: — 1st,  that  in  the 
Danish  wars  the  Saxons  failed  to 
surprise  a certain  city  in  conse- 
quence of  the  crowing  of  cocks, 
and  had  in  consequence  a great 
.hatred  of  that  bird  ; 2nd,  that  the 
cocks  ( galli ) were  special  repre- 
sentatives of  Frenchmen,  with 
whom  the  English  were  constantly 
at  war  ; and  3rd,  that  they  were 
connected  with  the  denial  of  St. 
Peter.  As  Sir  Charles  Sedley 
said  : — 

‘ Mayst  thou  be  punished  for  St. 
Peter’s  crime, 

And  on  Shrove  Tuesday  perish  in 
thy  prime.’ 

Knight’s  Old  England,  vol.  ii.  p 
1S6. 


FROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE.  165 

ike  passion  for  the  combats  of  wild  beasts,  Roman  literatuie 
and  the  later  literature  of  the  nations  subject  to  Rome  abound 
in  delicate  touches  displaying  in  a very  high  degree  a sensi- 
tiveness to  the  feelings  of  the  animal  world.  This  tender 
interest  in  animal  life  is  one  of  the  most  distinctive  features 
of  the  poetry  of  Virgil.  Lucretius,  who  rarely  struck  the 
chords  of  pathos,  had  at  a still  earlier  period  drawn  a very 
beautiful  picture  of  the  sorrows  of  the  bereaved  cow,  whose 
calf  had  been  sacrificed  upon  the  altar. 1 Plutarch  mentions, 
incidentally,  that  he  could  never  bring  himself  to  sell,  in  its 
old  age,  the  ox  which  had  served  him  faithfully  in  the  time 
of  its  strength.2  Ovid  expressed  a similar  sentiment  with  an 
almost  equal  emphasis.3  Juvenal  speaks  of  a Roman  lady 
with  her  eyes  filled  with  tears  on  account  of  the  death  of  a 
sparrow.4  Apollonius  of  Tyana,  on  the  ground  of  humanity, 
refused,  even  when  invited  by  a king,  to  participate  in  the 
chase.5  Arrian,  the  friend  of  Epictetus,  in  his  book  upon 


1 De  Ratura  Rerum,  lib.  ii. 
s Life  of  Marc.  Cato. 

* ‘ Quid  meruere  boves,  animal  sine 
fraude  dolisque, 

Innoeuum,  simplex,  natum  tole- 
rare  labores  ? 

Immemor  est  demum  nec  fru- 
gum  munere  dignus. 

Qui  potuit  curri  dempto  modo 
pondere  aratri 

Ruricolam  mactaro  suum.’ — 
Mc/amorph.  xv.  120—1 24. 
' ‘Cujus 

Turbavic  nitidos  extinctus  pas- 
ser ocellos.’ 

Juvenal,  Sat.  vi.  7-8. 

There  is  a little  poem  in  Catullus 
(iii.)  to  consolo  his  mistress  upon 
(he  death  of  herfav  .urite  sparrow  ; 
and  Martial  more  than  once  al- 
ludes to  the  pets  of  the  Roman 
ladies. 


Compare  the  charming  de- 
scription of  the  Prioress,  in  Chau- 
cer : — 

‘She  was  so  charitable  and  so 
pitous. 

She  wolde  wepe  if  that  she  saw  a 
mous 

Caught  in  a trappe,  if  it  were  ded 
or  bledde. 

Of  smale  houndes  had  she  that 
she  fedde 

With  rusted  flesh  and  milke  and 
wastel  brede, 

But  sore  wept  she  if  one  of  them 
were  dede, 

Or  if  men  smote  it  with  a yerde 
smert : 

And  all  was  conscience  and  tendre 
herte.’ 

Prologue  to  the  ‘ Canterbury  Tales, 

• Philost.  Apol.  i.  38. 


43 


106 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


coursing,  anticipated  the  beautiful  picture  which  Addison 
has  drawn  of  the  huntsman  refusing  to  sacrifice  the  life  of 
the  captured  hare  which  had  given  him  so  much  pleasure  in 
its  flight.1 

These  touches  of  feeling,  slight  as  they  may  appear,  in  li- 
cate,  1 think,  a vein  of  sentiment  such  as  we  should  scarcely 
have  expected  to  find  coexisting  with  the  gigantic  slaughter 
of  the  amphitheatre.  The  progress,  however,  was  not  only 
one  of  sentiment — it  was  also  shown  in  distinct  and  definite 
teaching.  Pythagoras  and  Empedocles  were  quoted  as  the 
founders  of  this  branch  of  ethics.  The  moral  duty  of  kind- 
ness to  animals  was  in  the  first  instance  based  upon  a 
dogmatic  assertion  of  the  transmigration  of  souls,  and,  the 
doctrine  that  animals  are  within  the  circle  of  human  duty 
being  thus  laid  down,  subsidiary  considerations  of  humanity 
were  alleged.  The  rapid  growth  of  the  Pythagorean  school, 
in  the  latter  days  of  the  Empire,  made  these  considerations 
familiar  to  the  people.2  Porphyry  elaborately  advocated, 
and  even  Seneca  for  a time  practised,  abstinence  from  flesh. 
But  the  most  remarkable  figure  in  this  movement  is  unques- 
tionably Plutarch.  Casting  aside  the  dogma  of  transmigra- 
tion, or  at  least  speaking  of  it  only  as  a doubtful  conjecture, 
he  places  the  duty  of  kindness  to  animals  on  the  broad  ground 
of  the  affections,  and  he  urges  that  duty  with  an  emphasis 
and  a detail  to  which  no  adequate  parallel  can,  I believe,  be 
found  in  the  Christian  writings  for  at  least  seventeen  hundred 
years.  He  condemns  absolutely  the  games  of  the  amphitheatre, 


1 See  the  curious  chapter  in  his 
KurrJ7erwc<is,  xvi.  and  compare  it 
with  No.  116  in  the  Spectator. 

2 In  liis  De  Abstinenlia  Carnis. 
The  controversy  between  Origen 
and  Colsus  furnishes  us  with  a 
very  curious  illustration  of  the 
extravagances  into  which  soma 


Pagans  of  the  third  century  fell 
about  animals.  Celsus  objected  to 
the  Christian  doctrine  about  the 
position  of  men  in  the  universe, 
that  many  of  the  animals  were  at 
least  the  equals  of  men  both  in 
reason,  religious  feeling,  and  know 
ledge.  (Orig.  Cont.  Cels.  lib.  iv.) 


FROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE. 


107 


dwell  a with  great  force  upon  Ihe  effect  of  such  spectacles  in 
hardening  the  character,  enumerates  in  detail,  and  denounces 
with  unqualified  energy,  the  refined  cruelties  which  gastro- 
nomic fancies  had  produced,  and  asserts  in  the  strongest 
language  that  every  man  has  duties  to  the  animal  world  as 
truly  as  to  his  fellow-men.1 

If  we  now  pass  to  the  Christian  Church,  we  shall  find 
that  little  or  no  progress  was  at  first  made  in  this  sphere. 
Among  the  Manicheans,  it  is  true,  the  mixture  of  Oriontal 
notions  was  shown  in  an  absolute  prohibition  of  animal  food, 
an  d al  istinence  from  this  food  was  also  frequently  practised  upon 
totally  different  grounds  by  the  orthodox.  One  or  two  of  the 
Fathers  have  also  mentioned  with  approbation  the  humane 
counsels  of  the  Pythagoreans.2  But,  on  the  other  hand,  the 
doctrine  of  transmigration  was  emphatically  repudiated  by 
the  Catholics ; the  human  race  was  isolated,  by  the  scheme 
of  redemption,  more  than  ever  from  all  other  races ; and  in 
the  range  and  circle  of  duties  inculcated  by  the  early  Fathers 
those  to  animals  had  no  place.  This  is  indeed  the  one  form 
of  humanity  which  appears  more  prominently  in  the  Old 
Testament  than  in  the  New.  The  many  beautiful  traces  of 
it  in  the  former,  which  indicate  a sentiment,3  even  where 
they  do  not  very  strictly  define  a duty,  gave  way  before  an 


’ These  views  are  chiefly  de- 
fended in  his  two  tracts  on  eating 
flesh.  Plutarch  has  also  recurred 
to  the  subject,  incidentally,  in  seve- 
ral other  works,  especially  in  a very 
beautiful  passage  in  his  Life  of 
Marcus  Cato. 

2 See,  for  example,  a striking 
passage  in  Clem.  Alex.  Strom,  lib. 
li.  St.  Clement  imagines  Pytha- 
goras had  borrowed  his  sentiments 
on  this  subject  from  Moses. 

* There  is,  I believe,  no  record 
of  any  wild  beast  combats  existing 
among  the  Jews,  and  the  rabbinical 


writers  have  been  remarkable  for 
the  great  emphasis  with  which  they 
inculcated  the  duty  of  kindness  to 
animals.  See  some  passages  from 
them,  cited  in  Wollaston,  Religion 
of  Nature,  sec.  ii.,  note.  Maimo- 
nides  believed  in  a future  life  fur 
animals,  to  recompense  them  for 
their  sufferings  here.  (Bayle,  Diet. 
art,  4 Rorarius  D.’)  There  is  a 
curious  collection  of  the  opinions 
of  different  writers  on  this  last  point 
in  a little  book  called  the  Rights 
of  Animals,  by  William  Drummoud 
(London,  1838),  pp.  197-205. 


108 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


ardent  philanthropy  which  regarded  human  interests  as  the 
one  end,  and  the  relations  of  man  to  his  Creator  as  the  one 
question,  of  life,  and  dismissed  somewhat  contemptuously,  as 
an  idle  sentimentalism,  notions  of  duty  to  animals.1  A re- 
fined and  subtle  sympathy  with  animal  feeling  is  indeed 
rarely  found  among  those  who  are  engaged  very  actively  in 
the  affair  s of  life,  and  it  was  not  without  a meaning  or  a 
reason  that  Shakespeare  placed  that  exquisitely  pathetic 
analysis  of  the  sufferings  of  the  wounded  stag,  which  is  per- 
haps its  most  perfect  poetical  expression,  in  the  midst  of  the 
morbid  dreamings  of  the  diseased  and  melancholy  Jacques. 

But  while  what  are  called  the  rights  of  animals  had  no 
place  in  the  ethics  of  the  Church,  a feeling  of  sympathy  with 
the  irrational  creation  was  in  some  degree  inculcated  indi- 
rectly by  the  incidents  of  the  hagiology.  It  was  very  natural 
that  the  hermit,  living  in  the  lonely  deserts  of  the  East,  or  in 
the  vast  forests  of  Europe,  should  come  into  an  intimate  con- 
nection with  the  animal  world,  and  it  was  no  less  natural  that 
the  popular  imagination,  when  depicting  the  hermit  life, 
should  make  this  connection  the  centre  of  many  picturesque 
and  sometimes  touching  legends.  The  birds,  it  was  said, 
stooped  in  their  flight  at  the  old  man’s  call ; the  lion  and  the 
hyena  crouched  submissively  at  his  feet;  his  heart,  which 
was  closed  to  all  human  interests,  expanded  freely  at  the 
sight  of  some  suffering  animal ; and  something  of  his  own 
sanctity  descended  to  the  companions  of  his  solitude  and  the 
objects  of  his  miracles.  The  wild  beasts  attended  St.  Theon 
when  he  walked  abroad,  and  the  saint  rewarded  them  by 
giving  them  drink  out  of  his  well.  An  Egyptian  hermit  had 
made  a beautiful  garden  in  the  desert,  and  used  to  sit  beneath 
ilre  palm-trees  while  a lion  ate  fruit  from  his  hand.  When 

1 Thus  St.  Paul  (1  Cor.  ix.  9)  its  natural  meaning,  wiU?  tlw>  »on- 
t in  nod  aside  the  precept,  ‘Thou  temptuous  question.  ‘ Loth  God 
shalt  not  muzzle  the  mouth  of  the  take  care  for  oxen  ? 
ox  th at  treadeth  out  the  corn,’ from 


FROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE.  169 


St.  Pcemen  was  shivering  in  a winter  night,  a lion  crouched 
beside  him,  and  became  his  covering.  Lions  buried  St.  Paul 
the  hermit  and  St.  Mary  of  Egypt.  They  appear  in  the 
legends  of  St.  Jerome,  St.  Gerasimus,  St.  John  the  Silent, 
St.  Simeon,  and  many  others.  When  an  old  and  feeble  monk, 
named  Zosimas,  was  on  his  journey  to  Caesarea,  with  an  ass 
which  bore  his  possessions,  a lion  seized  and  devoured  the 
ass,  but,  at  the  command  of  the  saint,  the  lion  itself  carried 
the  burden  to  the  city  gates.  St.  Helenus  called  a wild  ass 
from  its  herd  to  bear  his  burden  through  the  wilderness.  The 
same  saint,  as  well  as  St.  Pachomius,  crossed  the  Nile  on  the 
back  of  a crocodile,  as  St.  Scuthinus  did  the  Irish  Channel 
on  a sea  monster.  Stags  continually  accompanied  saints  upon 
their  journeys,  bore  their  burdens,  ploughed  their  fields,  re- 
vealed their  relics.  The  hunted  stag  was  especially  the  theme 
of  many  picturesque  legends.  A Pagan,  named  Branchion, 
was  once  pursuing  an  exhausted  stag,  when  it  took  refuge  in 
a cavern,  whose  threshold  no  inducement  could  persuade  the 
hounds  to  cross.  The  astonished  hunter  entered,  and  found 
himself  in  presence  of  an  old  hermit,  who  at  once  protected 
the  fugitive  and  converted  the  pursuer.  In  the  legends  of 
St.  Eustachius  and  St.  Hubert,  Christ  is  represented  as  having 
assumed  the  form  of  a hunted  stag,  winch  turned  upon  its 
pursuer,  with  a crucifix  glittering  on  its  brow,  and,  addressing 
him  with  a human  voice,  converted  him  to  Christianity.  In 
the  full  frenzy  of  a chase,  hounds  and  stag  stopped  and  knelt 
down  together  to  venerate  the  relics  of  St.  Fingar.  On  the 
festival  of  St.  Begulus,  the  wild  stags  assembled  at  the  tomb 
of  the  saint,  as  the  ravens  used  to  do  at  that  of  St.  Apollinar 
of  Ravenna.  St.  Erasmus  was  the  special  protector  of  oxen, 
and  they  knelt  down  voluntarily  before  his  shrine.  St.  An- 
tony was  the  protector  of  hogs,  who  were  usually  introduced 
into  his  pictures.  St.  Bridget  kept  pigs,  and  a wild  boar  came 
from  the  forest  to  subject  itself  to  her  rule.  A horse  fore- 
shadowed by  its  lamentations  the  death  of  St.  Columba.  The 


170 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


three  companions  of  St.  Colman  were  a cock,  a mouse,  and  a 
fly.  The  cook  announced  the  hour  of  devotion,  the  mouse 
bit  the  ear  of  the  drowsy  saint  till  he  got  up,  and  if  in  the 
course  of  his  studies  he  was  afflicted  by  any  wandering 
thoughts,  or  called  away  to  other  business,  the  fly  alighted 
on  the  line  where  he  had  left  off,  and  kept  the  place.  Le- 
gends, not  without  a certain  whimsical  beauty,  described  the 
moral  qualities  existing  in  animals.  A hermit  was  accus- 
tomed to  share  his  supper  with  a wolf,  which,  one  evening 
entering  the  cell  before  the  return  of  the  master,  stole  a 
loaf  of  bread.  Struck  with  remorse,  it  was  a week  before  it 
ventured  again  to  visit  the  cell,  and  when  it  did  so,  its  head 
hung  down,  and  its  whole  demeanour  manifested  the  most 
profound  contrition.  The  hermit  ‘ stroked  with  a gentle 
hand  its  bowed  down  head,’  and  gave  it  a double  portion  as 
a token  of  foigiveness.  A lioness  knelt  down  with  lamenta- 
tions before  another  saint,  and  then  led  him  to  its  cub,  which 
was  blind,  but  which  received  its  sight  at  the  prayer  of  the 
saint.  Next  day  the  lioness  returned,  bearing  the  skin  of  a 
wild  beast  as  a mark  of  its  gratitude.  Nearly  the  same  thing 
happened  to  St.  Macarius  of  Alexandria ; a hyena  knocked 
at  his  door,  brought  its  young,  which  was  blind,  and  which 
the  saint  restored  to  sight,  and  repaid  the  obligation  soon 
afterwards  by  bringing  a fleece  of  wool.  ‘ 0 hyena ! ’ said 
the  saint,  ‘ how  did  you  obtain  this  fleece  1 you  must  have 
stolen  and  eaten  a sheep.’  Full  of  shame,  the  hyena  hung  its 
head  down,  but  persisted  in  offering  its  gift,  which,  however, 
the  holy  man  refused  to  receive  till  the  hyena  ‘ had  sworn  ’ 
to  cease  for  the  future  to  rob.  The  hyena  bowed  its  head  in 
token  of  its  acceptance  of  the  oath,  and  St.  Macarius  after- 
wards gave  the  fleece  to  St.  Melania.  Other  legends  simply 
speak  of  the  sympathy  between  saints  and  the  irrational 
world.  The  birds  came  at  the  call  of  St.  Cuthbert,  and  a dead 
bird  was  resuscitated  by  his  prayer.  When  St.  Aengussius, 
in  felling  wood,  had  cut  his  hand,  the  birds  gathered  round, 


FROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE.  171 


and  with  loud  cries  lamented  his  misfortune.  A little  bird, 
struck  down  and  mortally  wounded  by  a hawk,  fell  at  the 
feet  of  St.  Kieranus,  who  shed  tears  as  he  looked  upon  its 
torn  breast,  and  offered  up  a prayer,  upon  which  the  bird 
was  instantly  healed.1 

Many  hundreds,  I should  perhaps  hardly  exaggerate  were 
I to  say  many  thousands,  of  legends  of  this  kind  exist  in  the 
lives  of  the  saints.  Suggested  in  the  first  instance  by  that 
desert  life  which  was  at  once  the  earliest  phase  of  monachism 
and  one  of  the  earliest  sources  of  Christian  mythology, 
strengthened  by  the  symbolism  which  represented  different 
virtues  and  vices  under  the  forms  of  animals,  and  by  the 
reminiscences  of  the  rites  and  the  superstitions  of  Paganism, 
the  connection  between  men  and  animals  became  the  key- 
note of  an  infinite  variety  of  fantastic  tales.  In  our  eyes 
they  may  appear  extravagantly  puerile,  yet  it  will  scarcely,  I 
hope,  be  necessary  to  apologise  for  introducing  them  into 
what  purports  to  be  a grave  work,  when  it  is  remembered 
that  for  many  centuries  they  were  universally  accepted  by 
mankind,  and  were  so  interwoven  with  all  local  traditions, 
and  with  all  the  associations  of  education,  that  they  at  once 
determined  and  reflected  the  inmost  feelings  of  the  heart. 
Their  tendency  to  create  a certain  feeling  of  sympathy  to- 
wards animals  is  manifest,  and  this  is  probably  the  utmost 


1 I have  taken  these  illustra- 
tions from  the  collection  of  hermit 
literature  in  Kosweyde,  from  dif- 
ferent volumes  of  the  Bollandists, 
from  the  Dialogues  of  Sulpicius 
feeverus,  and  from  what  is  perhaps 
the  most  interesting  of  all  collec- 
tions of  saintly  legends,  Colgan's 
Acta  Sanctorum  Ribernice.  M. 
Alfred  Maury,  in  his  most  valuable 
■work,  Legendes  pieuses  du,  Mayen 
Age,  has  examined  minutely  the 
part  played  by  animals  in  symbol 


ising  virtues  and  vices,  and  has 
shown  the  way  in  which  the  same 
incidents  were  repeated,  with  slight 
variations, in  different  legends.  M. 
de  Montalembert  has  devoted  what 
is  probably  the  most  beautiful 
chapter  of  his  Moines  cC  Occident 
(‘Les  Moines  et  la  Nature’)  to  tli6 
relations  of  monks  to  the  animal 
world ; but  the  numerous  legends 
ho  cites  are  all.  with  one  or  two 
exceptions,  different  from  those  I 
have  given. 


172 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


the  Catholic  Church  has  done  in  that  direction.1  A very 
few  authentic  instances  may,  indeed,  be  cited  of  saints  whose 
natural  gentleness  of  disposition  was  displayed  in  kindness  to 
the  animal  world.  Of  St.  James  of  Venice — an  obscure  saint 
of  the  thirteenth  century — it  is  told  that  he  was  accustomed  to 
buy  and  release  the  birds  with  which  Italian  boys  used  to  play 
by  attaching  them  to  strings,  saying  that  ‘ he  pitied  the  little 
birds  of  the  Lord,’  and  that  liis  ‘ tender  charity  recoiled  from 
all  cruelty,  even  to  the  most  diminutive  of  animals.’2  St. 
Francis  of  Assisi  was  a more  conspicuous  example  of  the  same 
spirit.  ‘ If  I could  only  be  presented  to  the  emperor,’  he  used 
to  say,  ‘ I would  pray  him,  for  the  love  of  God,  and  of  me,  to 
issue  an  edict  prohibiting  any  one  from  catching  or  imprison- 
ing my  sisters  the  larks,  and  ordering  that  all  who  have  oxen 
or  asses  should  at  Christmas  feed  them  particularly  well.’  A 
crowd  of  legends  turning  upon  this  theme  were  related  of 
him.  A wolf,  near  Gubbio,  being  adjured  by  him,  promised 
to  abstain  from  eating  sheep,  placed  its  paw  in  the  hand  of 
the  saint  to  ratify  the  promise,  and  was  afterwards  fed  from 
house  to  house  by  the  inhabitants  of  the  city.  A crowd  of 
birds,  on  another  occasion,  came  to  hear  the  saint  preach,  as 
fish  did  to  hear  St.  Antony  of  Padua.  A falcon  awoke  him 
at  his  hour  of  prayer.  A grasshopper  encouraged  him  by  hei 
melody  to  sing  praises  to  God.  The  noisy  swallows  kepi 
silence  when  he  began  to  teach.3 


1 Chateaubriand  speaks,  how- 
ever ( Etudes  historiques,  etude  vim°, 
lre  partie),  of  an  old  Gallic  law, 
forbidding  to  throw  a stone  at  an 
ox  attached  to  the  plough,  or  to 
make  its  yoke  too  tight. 

2 Bollandists,  May  31.  Leo- 
nardo da  Vinci  is  said  to  have  had 
the  same  fondness  for  buying  and 
releasing  caged  birds,  and  (to  go 
buck  a long  way)  Pythagoras  to 
have  purchased  one  day,  near  Me- 

tapontus,  from  some  fishermen  all 


the  fish  in  their  net,  that  he  might 
have  the  pleasure  of  releasing 
them.  (Apuleius,  Apologia.) 

3  See  these  legends  collected  by 
Hase  (St.  Francis.  Assisi).  It  is 
said  of  Cardinal  Bellarmine  that 
he  used  to  allow  vermin  to  bite 
him,  saying,  ‘AVe  shall  have 
heaven  to  reward  us  for  our  suffer- 
ings, but  these  poor  creatures  hare 
nothing  but  the  enjoyment  of  this 
present  life.'  (Bayle,  Diet,  philos. 
art.  Bellarmine.') 


FROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE. 


173 


On  the  whole,  however,  Catholicism  has  done  very  little 
to  inculcate  humanity  to  animals.  The  fatal  vice  of  theo- 
logians, who  have  always  looked  upon  others  solely  thi  ougli 
the  medium  of  their  own  special  dogmatic  views,  has  been 
an  obstacle  to  all  advance  in  this  direction.  The  animal 
world,  being  altogether  external  to  the  scheme  of  redemption, 
was  regarded  as  beyond  the  range  of  duty,  and  the  belief 
that  we  have  any  kind  of  obligation  to  its  members  has  never 
been  inculcated— has  never,  I believe,  been  even  admitted — by 
Catholic  theologians.  In  the  popular  legends,  and  in  the 
recorded  traits  of  individual  amiability,  it  is  curious  to  ob- 
serve how  constantly  those  who  have  sought  to  inculcate 
kindness  to  animals  have  done  so  by  endeavouring  to  asso- 
ciate them  with  something  distinctively  Christian.  The 
legends  I have  noticed  glorified  them  as  the  companions  of 
the  saints.  The  stag  was  honoured  as  especially  commis- 
sioned to  reveal  the  relics  of  saints,  and  as  the  deadly  enemy 
of  the  serpent.  In  the  feast  of  asses,  that  animal  was  led 
with  veneration  into  the  churches,  and  a rude  hymn  pro- 
claimed its  dignity,  because  it  had  borne  Christ  in  His  flight 
to  Egypt,  and  in  His  entry  into  Jerusalem.  St.  Francis 
always  treated  lambs  with  a peculiar  tenderness,  as  being 
symbols  of  his  Master.  Luther  grew  sad  and  thoughtful 
at  a hare  hunt,  for  it  seemed  to  him  to  represent  the  pursuit 
of  souls  by  the  devil.  Many  popular  legends  exist,  asso- 
ciating some  bird  or  animal  with  some  incident  in  the  evan- 
gelical narrative,  and  securing  for  them  in  consequence  an 
unmolested  life.  But  such  influences  have  nevei  extended 
far.  There  are  two  distinct  objects  which  may  be  considered 
by  moralists  in  this  sphere.  They  may  regard  the  character 
of  the  men,  or  they  may  regard  the  sufferings  of  the  animals. 
The  amount  of  callousness  or  of  conscious  cruelty  displayed 
or  elicited  by  amusements  or  practices  that  inflict  suffering 
on  animals,  bears  no  kind  of  proportion  to  the  intensity  of 
that  suffering.  Could  we  follow  with  adequate  realisation 


m 


HISTORY  OP  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


the  pangs  of  tlie  wounded  birds  that  are  struck  down  in  our 
sports,  or  of  the  timid  hare  in  tne  long  course  of  its  flight, 
we  should  probably  conclude  that  they  were  not  really  less 
than  those  caused  by  the  Spanish  bull-fight,  or  by  the  English 
pastimes  of  the  last  century.  But  the  excitement  of  the 
chase  refracts  the  imagination,  and  owing  to  the  diminutive 
size  of  the  victim,  and  the  undemonstrative  character  of  its 
suffering,  these  sports  do  not  exercise  that  prejudicial  in- 
fluence upon  character  which  they  would  exercise  if  the 
sufferings  of  the  animals  were  vividly  realised,  and  were  at 
the  same  time  accepted  as  an  element  of  the  enjoyment. 
The  class  of  amusements  of  which  the  ancient  combats  of 
wild  beasts  form  the  type,  have  no  doubt  nearly  disappeared 
from  Christendom,  and  it  is  possible  that  the  softening  power 
of  Christian  teaching  may  have  had  some  indirect  influence 
in  abolishing  them  ; but  a candid  judgment  will  confess  that 
it  has  been  very  little.  During  the  periods,  and  in  the 
countries,  in  which  theological  influence  was  supreme,  they 
were  unchallenged.1  They  disappeared2  at  last,  because  a 
luxurious  and  industrial  civilisation  involved  a refinement  of 
maimers;  because  a fastidious  taste  recoiled  with  a sensa- 
tion of  disgust  from  pleasures  that  an  uncultivated  taste 
would  keenly  relish ; because  the  drama,  at  once  reflecting 


1 I have  noticed,  in  my  History 
of  Rationalism,  that,  although  some 
Popes  did  undoubtedly  try  to  sup- 
press Spanish  bull-fights,  this  was 
solely  on  account  of  the  destruction 
of  human  life  they  caused.  Full 
details  on  this  subject  will  be  found 
in  Coneina,  De  Spcctaculis  (Romae, 
1752).  Bayle  says,  ‘ II  n’y  a point 
de  casuiste  qui  croie  qu'on  peclie 
en  faisant  combattre  des  taureaux 
contre  des  dogues,’  &c.  {Diet, 
philos.  ‘ Rorarius,  C.’) 

2 On  the  ancient  amusements  of 
England  the  reader  may  consult 


Seymour’s  Survey  of  London 
(1734),  vol.  i.  pp.  227-235; 
Strutt’s  Sports  arid  Pastimes  of  the 
English  People.  Cock-fighting  was 
a favourite  childrens  amusement 
in  England  as  early  as  the  twelfth 
century.  (Hampson’s  Medii  Mvi 
Kalendarii,  vol.  i.  p.  160.)  It  was, 
with  foot-ball  and  several  other 
amusements,  for  a time  suppressed 
by  Edward  III.,  on  the  ground 
that  they  were  diverting  the  people 
from  archery,  which  was  necessary 
:o  the  military  greatness  of  Eng 
land. 


FROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE. 


175 


and  accelerating  the  change,  gave  a new  form  to  popular 
Kvnusements,  and  because,  in  consequence  of  this  revolu- 
tion, the  old  pastimes,  being  left  to  the  dregs  of  society,  be- 
came the  occasions  of  scandalous  disorders.1  In  Protestant 


1 The  decline  of  these  amuse- 
ments in  England  began  with  the 
great  development  ot  the  theatre 
under  Elizabeth.  An  order  of  the 
Privy  Council  in  July,  1591,  pro- 
hibits the  exhibition  of  plays  on 
Thursday,  because  on  Thursdays 
bear-baiting  and  suchlike  pastimes 
had  been  usually  practised,  and  an 
injunction  to  the  same  effect  was 
sent  to  the  Lord  Mayor,  wherein  it 
was  stated  that,  ‘ in  divers  places 
the  players  do  use  to  recite  their 
plays,  to  the  great  hurt,  and  de- 
struction of  the  game  of  bear- 
baiting  and  like  pastimes,  which 
are  maintained  for  Her  Majesty’s 
pleasure.' — Nichols,  Progresses  of 
Queen  Elizabeth  (ed.  1823),  vol.  i. 
p.  438.  The  reader  will  remember 
the  picture  in  Kenilworth  of  the 
Earl  of  Sussex  petitioning  Eliza- 
beth against  Shakespeare,  on  the 
ground  of  his  plays  distracting  men 
from  bear-baiting.  Elizabeth  (see 
Nichols)  was  extremely  lond  of 
bear-baiting.  James  I.  especially 
delighted  in  cock-fighting,  anil  in 
1G10  was  present  at  a great  fight 
between  a lion  and  a bear,  (bone, 
Every  Day  Book.  vol.  i.  pp.  255- 
299.)  The  theatres,  however,  ra- 
pidly multiplied,  and  a writer  who 
lived  about  1629  said,  ‘that  no  less 
than  seventeen  playhouses  had  been 
built  in  or  about  London  within 
threescore  years.’  (Seymour’s  Sur- 
vey, vol.  i.  p.  229.)  The  Rebellion 
suppressed  all  public  amusements, 
and  when  they  were  re-established 
after  the  Restoration,  it  was  found 


that  the  tastes  of  the  better  classes 
no  longer  sympathised  with  the 
bear-garden.  Pepys  (Diary,  August 
14,  1666)  speaks  of  bull-baiting  as 
‘ a very  rude  and  nasty  pleasure,’ 
and  says  he  had  not  been  in  the 
bear-garden  for  many  years.  Eve- 
lyn {Diary,  June  16,  1670),  having 
been  present  at  these  shows,  de- 
scribes them  as  ‘butcherly  sports, 
or  rather  barbarous  cruelties,’  and 
says  he  had  not  visited  them  before 
for  twenty  years.  A paper  in  the 
Spectator  (No.  141,  written  in  1711) 
talks  of  those  who  ‘seek  their 
diversion  at  the  bear-garden,  . . . 
where  reason  and  good  manners 
have  no  right  to  disturb  them.’  In 
1751,  however,  Lord  Kumes  was 
aide  to  say,  ‘ The  bear  garden, 
which  is  one  of  the  chief  entertain- 
ments of  the  English,  is  held  in 
abhorrence  by  the  French  and  other 
polite  nations.’ — Essay  on  Morals 
(1st  ed.),  p.  7 ; and  he  warmly 
defends  (p.  30)  the  English  taste. 
During  the  latter  half  of  the  last 
century  there  was  constant  contro- 
versy on  the  subject  (which  may 
be  traced  in  the  pages  of  the  An- 
nual Register),  and  several  forgot- 
ten clergymen  published  sermons 
upon  it,  and  the  frequent  riots 
resulting  from  the  fact  that  the 
bear-gardens  had  become  the  resort 
of  the  worst  classes  assisted  the 
movement.  The  London  magis- 
trates took  measures  to  suppress 
cock-throwing  in  1769  (Hampson’s 
Med.  2Ev.  Kalend.  p.  160);  but 
bull-baiting  continued  far  into  the 


176 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


countries  the  clergy  have,  on  the  whole,  sustained  this  move- 
ment. In  Catholic  countries  it  has  been  much  more  faithfully 
represented  by  the  school  of  Voltaire  and  Beccaria.  A 
judicious  moralist  may,  however, reasonably  question  whether 
amusements  which  derive  their  zest  from  a display  of  the 
natural  ferocious  instincts  of  animals,  and  which  substitute 
death  en  lured  in  the  frenzy  of  combat  for  death  in  the 
remote  slaughter-house  or  by  the  slow  process  of  decay,  have 
added  in  any  appreciable  degree  to  the  sum  of  animal 
misery,  and  in  these  cases  he  will  dwell  less  upon  the  suffer- 
ing inflicted  than  upon  the  injurious  influence  the  spectacle 
may  sometimes  exercise  on  the  character  of  the  spectator. 
But  there  are  forms  of  cruelty  which  must  be  regarded  in  a 
different  light.  The  horrors  of  vivisection,  often  so  wantonly, 
so  needlessly  practised,1  the  prolonged  and  atrocious  tortures, 


present  century.  Windham  and 
Canning  strongly  defended  it ; Dr. 
Parr  is  said  to  have  been  fond  of  it 
( Southey's  Commonplace  Book,  vol. 
iv.  p.  585);  and  as  late  as  1 824, 
Sir  Robert  (then  Mr  ) Peel  argued 
strongly  against  its  prohibition. 
(Parliamentary  Debates , vol.  x. 
pp.  132-133,  491-495.) 

1 Bacon,  in  an  account  of  the 
deficiencies  of  medicine,  recom- 
mends vivisection  in  terms  that 
seem  to  imply  that  it  was  not 
practised  in  his  time.  ‘ As  for  the 
passages  and  pores,  it  is  true,  which 
was  anciently  noted,  that  the  more 
subtle  of  them  appear  not  in  anato- 
mies, because  they  are  shut  and 
latent  in  dead  bodies,  though  they 
bo  open  and  manifest  in  live ; 
which  being  supposed,  though  the 
inhumanity  of  anatomia  vivorum 
was  by  Celsus  justly  reproved,  yet, 
in  regard  of  the  great  use  of  this 
observation,  the  enquiry  needed 
not  by  him  sc  slightly  to  have  been 


relinquished  altogether,  or  referred 
to  the  casual  practices  of  surgery  ; 
but  might  have  been  well  diverted 
upon  the  dissection  of  beasts  alive, 
which,  notwithstanding  the  dis- 
similitude of  their  parts,  may 
sufficiently  satisfy  this  enquiry.’ — 
Advancement  of  Learning,  x.  4. 
Harvey  speaks  of  vivisections  as 
having  contributed  to  lead  him  to 
the  discovery  of  the  circulation  of  the 
blood.  (Acland's  Harveian  Oration 
(1865).  p.  55.)  Bayle,  describing 
the  treatment  of  animals  by  men, 
says,  ‘Nous  fouillons  dans  leurs 
entrailles  pendant  leur  vie  afin  de 
satisfaire  notre  curiosity.’ — Diet, 
philos.  art.  ‘Rorarius,  0.’  Public 
opinion  in  England  was  very 
strongly  directed  to  the  subject  in 
the  present  century,  by  the  atro- 
cious cruelties  perpetrated  by  Ma- 
jendie  at  his  lectures.  See  a most 
frightful  account  of  them  in  a 
speech  by  Mr.  Martin  (an  eccentric 
Irish  member,  who  was  generally 


FROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE. 


177 


sometimes  inflicted  in  order  to  procure  some  gastronomic  de- 
licacy, are  so  far  removed  from  the  public  gaze  that  they 
exercise  little  influence  on  the  character  of  men.  Yet  no 
humane  man  can  reflect  upon  them  without  a shudder.  To 
bring  these  tilings  within  the  range  of  ethics,  to  create  the 
notion  of  duties  towards  the  animal  world,  has,  so  far  as 
Christian  countries  are  concerned,  been  one  of  the  peculiar 
merits  of  the  last  century,  and,  for  the  most  part,  of  Protes- 
tant nations.  However  fully  we  may  recognise  the  humane 
spirit  transmitted  to  the  world  in  the  form  of  legends  from 
the  saints  of  the  desert,  it  must  not  be  forgotten  that  the  in- 
culcation of  humanity  to  animals  on  a wide  scale  is  mainly 
the  work  of  a recent  and  a secular  age ; that  the  Mohamme- 
dans and  the  Brahmins  have  in  this  sphere  considerably 
simpassed  the  Christians,  and  that  Spain  and  Southern  Italy, 
in  which  Catholicism  has  most  deeply  planted  its  roots,  are 
even  now,  probably  beyond  all  other  countries  in  Europe, 
those  in  which  inhumanity  to  animals  is  most  wanton  and 
most  unrebuked. 

The  influence  the  first  form  of  monachism  has  exercised 
upon  the  world,  so  far  as  it  has  been  beneficial,  has  been 
chiefly  through  the  imagination,  which  has  been  fascinated  by 
its  legends.  In  the  great  periods  of  theological  controversy, 
the  Eastern  monks  had  furnished  some  leading  theologians  ; 
but  in  general,  in  Oriental  lands,  the  hermit  life  predomi- 
nated, and  extreme  maceration  was  the  chief  merit  of  the  saint, 
But  in  the  West,  monachism  assumed  very  different  forms, 
and  exercised  far  higher  functions.  At  first  the  Oriental 
saints  were  the  ideals  of  Western  monks.  The  Eastern  St. 
A thanasius  had  been  the  founder  of  Italian  monachism.  St. 


ridiculed  during  his  life,  and  has  Parliament.  Hist.  vol.  xii.  p.  652. 
been  almost  forgotten  since  his  Mandeville  in  his  day,  was  a verv 
death,  but  to  whose  untiring  ex-  strong  advocate  of  kindness  to 
ertions  the  legislative  protection  animals. — Commentary  oh  the  Fable 
if  animals  in  England  is  due). — of  the  Bees. 


178 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


Martin  of  Tours  excluded  labour  from  the  discipline  of  his 
monks,  and  he  and  they,  like  the  Eastern  saints,  were  accus- 
tomed to  wander  abroad,  destroying  the  idols  of  the  temples.1 
But  three  great  causes  conspired  to  direct  the  monastic  spirit 
In  the  West  into  practical  channels.  Conditions  of  race  and 
climate  have  ever  impelled  the  inhabitants  of  these  lands 
to  active  life,  and  have  at  the  same  time  rendered  them 
constitutionally  incapable  of  enduring  the  austerities  or 
enjoying  the  hallucinations  of  the  sedentary  Oriental.  There 
arose,  too,  in  the  sixth  century,  a groat  legislator,  whose  form 
maybe  dimly  traced  through  a cloud  of  fantastic  legends,  and 
the  order  of  St.  Benedict,  with  that  of  St.  Columba  and  some 
others,  founded  on  substantially  the  same  principle,  soon  rami- 
fied through  the  greater  part  of  Europe,  tempered  the  wild 
excesses  of  useless  penances,  and,  making  labour  an  essential 
part  of  the  monastic  system,  directed  the  movement  to  the 
purposes  of  general  civilisation.  In  the  last  place,  the  bar- 
barian invasions,  and  the  dissolution  of  the  Western  Empire, 
dislocating  the  whole  system  of  government  and  almost  re- 
solving society  into  its  primitive  elements,  naturally  threw 
upon  the  monastic  corporations  social,  political,  and  intellec- 
tual functions  of  the  deepest  importance. 

It  has  been  observed  that  the  capture  of  Rome  by  Alaric, 
involving  as  it  did  the  destruction  of  the  grandest  religious 
monuments  of  Paganism,  in  fact  established  in  that  city  the 
supreme  authority  of  Christianity.2  A similar  remark  may 
be  extended  to  the  general  downfall  of  the  Western  civilisa- 
tion. In  that  civilisation  Christianity  had  indeed  been, 
legally  enthroned  ; but  the  philosophies  and  traditions  of 
Paganism,  and  the  ingrained  habits  of  an  ancient,  and  at 
the  same  time  an  effete  society,  continually  paralysed  its 
energies.  What  Europe  would  have  been  without  the  bar- 
barian invasions,  we  may  partly  divine  from  the  history  of 


’ Sec  his  Life  by  Sulpicius  Severus. 


s MUman. 


FROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE. 


179 


the  Lower  Empire,  which  represented,  in  fact,  the  old  Roman 
civilisation  prolonged  and  Christianised.  The  barbarian 
conquests,  breaking  up  the  old  organisation,  provided  the 
Church  with  a virgin  soil,  and  made  it,  for  a long  period, 
the  supreme  and  indeed  sole  centre  of  civilisation. 

It  would  be  difficult  to  exaggerate  the  skill  and  courage 
displayed  by  the  ecclesiastics  in  this  most  trying  period. 
We  have  already  seen  the  noble  daring  with  which  they 
interfered  between  the  conqueror  and  the  vanquished,  and 
the  unwearied  charity  with  which  they  sought  to  alluviate 
the  unparalleled  sufferings  of  Italy,  when  the  colonial  sup- 
plies of  corn  were  cut  off.  and  when  tbe  fairest  plains  were 
desolated  by  the  barbarians.  Still  more  wonderful  is  the 
rapid  conversion  of  the  barbarian  tribes.  Unfortunately 
this,  which  is  one  of  the  most  important,  is  also  one  of  the 
most  obscure  pages  in  the  history  of  the  Church.  Of  whole 
tribes  or  nations  it  may  be  truly  said  that  we  are  absolutely 
ignorant  of  the  cause  of  then-  change.  The  Goths  had 
already  been  converted  by  Ulphilas,  before  the  downfall 
of  the  Empire,  and  the  conversion  of  the  Germans  and  of 
several  northern  nations  was  long  posterior  to  it ; but  the 
great  work  of  Christianising  the  barbarian  world  was  accom- 
plished almost  in  the  hour  when  that  world  became  supreme. 
Rude  tribes,  accustomed  in  their  own  lands  to  pay  absolute 
obedience  to  then-  priests,  found  themselves  in  a foreign 
country,  confronted  by  a priesthood  far  more  civilised  and 
imposing  than  that  which  they  had  left,  by  gorgeous  cere- 
monies, well  fitted  to  entice,  and  by  threats  of  coming  judg- 
ment, well  fitted  to  scai-e  their  imaginations.  Disconnected 
from  all  their  old  associations,  they  bowed  before  the  majesty 
of  civilisation,  and  the  Latin  religion,  like  the  Latin  lan- 
guage, though  with  many  adulterations,  reigned  over  tbe 
new  society.  The  doctrine  of  exclusive  salvation,  and  the 
doctrine  of  daemons,  had  an  admirable  missionary  power. 
The  first  produced  an  ardour  of  proselytising  which  the 


180 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


polytheist  could  never  rival ; while  the  Pagan,  who  was 
easily  led  to  recognise  the  Christian  God,  was  menaced  with 
eternal  fire  if  he  did  not  take  the  further  step  of  breaking 
off  from  his  old  divinities.  The  second  dispensed  the  con 
vert  from  the  perhaps  impossible  task  of  disbelieving  liia 
former  religion,  for  it  was  only  necessary  for  him  to  degrade 
it,  attributing  its  prodigies  to  infernal  beings.  The  priests, 
in  addition  to  their  noble  devotion,  carried  into  then'  mis- 
sionary efforts  the  most  masterly  judgment.  The  barbarian 
tribes  usually  followed  without  enquiry  the  religion  of  their 
sovereign;  and  it  was  to  the  conversion  of  the  king,  and 
still  more  to  the  conversion  of  the  queen,  that  the  Christians 
devoted  all  then’  energies.  Clotilda,  the  wife  of  Clovis, 
Bertha,  the  wife  of  Ethelbert,  and  Theodolinda,  the  wife  of 
Lothaire,  were  the  chief  instraments  in  converting  their 
husbands  and  their  nations.  Nothing  that  could  affect  the 
imagination  was  neglected.  It  is  related  of  Clotilda,  that 
she  was  careful  to  attract  her  husband  by  the  rich  draperies 
of  the  ecclesiastical  ceremonies.1  In  another  case,  the  first 
work  of  proselytising  was  confided  to  an  artist,  who  painted 
before  the  terrified  Pagans  the  last  judgment  and  the  tor- 
ments of  hell 2 But  especially  the  belief,  which  was  sincerely 
held,  and  sedulously  inculcated,  that  temporal  success  fol- 
lowed in  the  tram  of  Christianity,  and  that  every  pestilence, 
famine,  or  military  disaster  was  the  penalty  of  idolatry, 
heresy,  sacrilege,  or  vice,  assisted  the  movement.  The  theory 
was  so  wide,  that  it  met  every  variety  of  fortune,  and  being 
taught  with  consummate  skill,  to  barbarians  who  were 
totally  destitute  of  all  critical  power,  and  strongly  predis- 
posed to  accept  it,  it  proved  extremely  efficacious  ; and  hope, 
fear,  gratitude,  and  remorse  drew  multitudes  into  the  Church. 


1 G-reg.  Tnron.  ii.  29.  Milman’s  Latin  Christianity,  vr.L 

2 This  was  the  first  step  towards  iii.  p.  249. 
the  conversion  of  the  Bulgarians. — 


FEOJI  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHAELE1IAGNE.  181 


The  transition  was  softened  by  the  substitution  of  Christian 
ceremonies  and  saints  for  the  festivals  and  the  divinities  of 
the  Pagans.1  Besides  the  professed  missionaries,  the  Chris- 
tian captives  zealously  diffused  their  faith  among  their  Pagan 
masters.  IVhen  the  chieftain  had  been  converted,  and  the 
army  had  followed  his  profession,  an  elaborate  monastic 
and  ecclesiastical  organisation  grew  up  to  consolidate  the 
conquest,  and  repressive  laws  soon  crushed  all  opposition  to 
the  faith. 

In  these  ways  the  victoiy  of  Christianity  over  the  bar- 
barian world  was  achieved.  But  that  victory,  though  very 
great,  was  less  decisive  than  might  appear.  A religion  which 
professed  to  be  Christianity,  and  which  contained  many  of 
the  ingredients  of  pure  Christianity,  had  risen  into  the 
ascendant,  but  it  had  undergone  a profound  modification 
through  the  struggle.  Religions,  as  well  as  worshippers,  had 
been  baptised.  The  festivals,  images,  and  names  of  saints 
had  been  substituted  for  those  of  the  idols,  and  the  habits  of 
thought  and  feeling  of  the  ancient  faith  reappeared  in  new 
forms  and  a new  language.  The  tendency  to  a material, 
idolatrous,  and  polytheistic  faith,  which  had  long  been  en- 
couraged by  the  monks,  and  which  the  heretics  Jovinian, 
Vigilantius,  and  Acrius  had  vainly  resisted,  was  fatally 
strengthened  by  the  infusion  of  a barbarian  element  into  the 
Church,  by  the  general  depression  of  intellect  in  Europe,  and 
by  the  many  accommodations  that  were  made  to  facilitate  con- 
version. Though  apparently  defeated  and  crushed,  the  old 
gods  still  retained,  under  a new  faith,  no  small  part  of  their 
influence  over  the  world. 

To  this  tendency  the  leaders  of  the  Church  made  in 
genera,  no  resistance,  though  in  another  form  they  were 


1 A remarkable  collection  of  in-  Century  (Eng.  trans.),  vol.  i.  pp 
utances  of  this  kind  is  given  by  124-127. 

Ozanam,  Civilisation  in  the  Fifth 


44 


182 


HISTORY  OR  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


deeply  persuaded  of  the  vitality  of  the  old  gods.  Many 
curious  and  picturesque  legends  attest  the  popular  belief  that 
the  old  Roman  and  the  old  barbarian  divinities,  in  their 
capacity  of  daemons,  were  still  waging  an  unrelenting  war 
against  the  triumphant  faith.  A great  Pope  of  the  sixth 
century  relates  how  a Jew,  being  once  benighted  on  his 
journey,  and  finding  no  other  shelter  for  the  night,  lay  down 
to  rest  in  an  abandoned  temple  of  Apollo.  Shuddering  at 
the  loneliness  of  the  building,  and  fearing  the  daemons  who 
were  said  to  haunt  it,  he  determined,  though  not  a Christian, 
to  protect  himself  by  the  sign  of  the  cross,  which  he  had 
often  heard  possessed  a mighty  power  against  spiiits.  To 
that  sign  he  owed  his  safety.  For  at  midnight  the  templo 
was  filled  with  dark  and  threatening  forms.  The  god  Apollo 
was  holding  his  court  at  his  deserted  shrine,  and  his  attendant 
daemons  were  recounting  the  temptations  they  had  devised 
against  the  Christians.1  A newly  married  Roman,  when  one 
day  playing  ball,  took  off  his  wedding-ring,  which  he  found 
an  impediment  in  the  game,  and  he  gaily  put  it  on  the  finger 
of  a statue  of  Yenus,  that  was  standing  near.  When  he 
returned,  the  marble  finger  had  bent  so  that  it  was  impossible 
to  withdraw  the  ring,  and  that  night  the  goddess  appeared  to 
him  in  a dream,  and  told  him  that  she  was  now  bis  wedded 
wife,  and  that  she  would  abide  with  him  for  ever.2  When 
the  Irish  missionai-y  St.  Gall  was  fishing  one  night  upon  a 
Swiss  lake,  near  which  he  had  planted  a monastery,  he  heard 
strange  voices  sweeping  over  the  lonely  deep.  The  Spirit  of 
the  Water  and  the  Spirit  of  the  Mountains  were  consulting 


1 St.  Gregory,  Dial.  iii.  7.  Tlie 
particular  temptation  the  Jew  heard 
discussed  was  that  of  the  bishop  of 

the  diocese,  who,  under  the  instiga- 
tion of  ono  of  the  daemons,  was 
rapidly  falling  in  love  with  a nun, 
and  had  proceeded  so  far  as  jocosely 


to  stroke  her  on  the  back.  The  Jew, 
having  related  the  vision  to  tho 
bishop,  the  latter  reformed  his 
manners,  the  Jew  became  a Chris- 
tian, and  the  temple  was  turned 
into  a church. 

1 William  of  Malmesbury,  ii.  1!L 


FEOTvT  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE. 


1S3 


together  how  they  could  expel  the  intruder  who  had  disturbed 
their  ancient  reign.' 

The  details  of  the  rapid  propagation  of  Western  mon- 
achism  have  been  amply  treated  by  many  historians,  and 
the  causes  of  its  success  are  sufficiently  manifest.  Some  ol 
the  reasons  T have  assigned  for  the  first  spread  of  asceticism 
continued  to  operate,  while  others  of  a still  more  powerful 
kind  had  arisen.  The  rapid  decomposition  of  the  entire  Roman 
Empire  by  continuous  invasions  of  barbarians  rendered  the 
existence  of  an  inviolable  asylum  and  centre  of  peaceful 
labour  a matter  of  transcendent  importance,  and  the  mon- 
astery as  organised  by  St.  Benedict  soon  combined  the  most 
heterogeneous  elements  of  attraction.  It  was  at  once  emi- 
nently aristocratic  and  intensely  democratic.  The  power  and 
princely  position  of  the  abbot  were  coveted,  and  usually 
obtained,  by  members  of  the  most  illustrious  families  ; while 
emancipated  serfs,  or  peasants  who  had  lost  their  all  in  the 
invasions,  or  were  harassed  by  savage  nobles,  or  had  fled  from 
military  service,  or  desired  to  lead  a more  secure  and  easy 
life,  foimd  in  the  monastery  an  unfailing  refuge.  The  insti- 
tution exercised  all  the  influence  of  great  wealth,  expended 
for  the  most  part  with  great  charity,  while  the  monk  himself 
was  invested  with  the  aureole  of  a sacred  poverty.  To 
ardent  and  philanthropic  natures,  the  profession  opened 
boundless  vistas  of  missionary,  charitable,  and  civilising 
activity.  To  the  superstitious  it  was  the  plain  road  to 
heaven.  To  the  ambitious  it  was  the  portal  to  bishoprics, 
and,  after  the  monk  St.  Gregory,  not  unfrequently  to  the 
Poped  jm.  To  the  studious  it  offered  the  only  opportunity 
then  existing  in  the  world  of  seeing  many  books  and  passing 
a life  of  study.  To  the  timid  and  retiring  it  afforded  the 
most  secure,  and  probably  the  least  laborious  life  a poor 
peasant  could  hope  to  find.  Vast  as  were  the  multitudes 
that  thronged  the  monasteries,  the  means  for  their  support 


1 See  Milman’s  Hist,  of  Latin  Christianity,  vol.  ii.  p.  293. 


1ST  HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 

were  never  wanting.  The  belief  that  gifts  or  legacies  to  a 
monastery  opened  the  doors  of  heaven  was  in  a superstitions 
age  sufficient  to  secure  for  the  community  an  almost  boundless 
wealth,  which  was  still  further  increased  by  the  skill  and 
perseverance  with  which  the  monks  tilled  the  waste  lands,  by 
the  exemption  of  their  domains  from  all  taxation,  and  by  the 
tranquillity  which  in  the  most  turbulent  ages  they  usually 
enjoyed.  In  France,  the  Low  Countries,  and  Germany  they 
were  pre-eminently  agriculturists.  Gigantic  forests  were 
felled,  inhospitable  marshes  reclaimed,  barren  plains  culti- 
vated by  their  hands.  The  monastery  often  became  the  nu- 
cleus of  a city.  It  was  the  centre  of  civilisation  and  industry, 
the  symbol  of  moral  power  in  an  age  of  turbulence  and  war. 

It  must  be  observed,  however,  that  the  beneficial  influence 
of  the  monastic  system  was  necessarily  transitional,  and  the 
subsequent  corruption  the  normal  and  inevitable  result  of  its 
constitution.  Yast  societies  living  in  enforced  celibacy, 
exercising  an  unbounded  influence,  and  possessing  enormous 
wealth,  must  necessarily  have  become  hotbeds  of  corruption 
when  the  enthusiasm  that  had  created  them  expired.  The 
services  they  rendered  as  the  centres  of  agriculture,  the 
refuge  of  travellers,  the  sanctuaries  in  war,  the  counterpoise 
of  the  baronial  castle,  were  no  longer  required  when  the  con- 
vulsions of  invasion  had  ceased  and  when  civil  society  was 
definitely  organised.  And  a similar  observation  may  bo 
extended  even  to  their  moral  type.  Thus,  while  it  is  un- 
doubtedly true  that  the  Benedictine  monks,  by  making 
labour  an  essential  clement  of  their  discipline,  did  very  much 
to  efface  the  stigma  which  slavery  had  affixed  upon  it,  it  is 
also  true  that,  when  industry  had  passed  out  of  its  initial 
stage,  the  monastic  theories  of  the  sanctity  of  poverty,  and  the 
evil  of  wealth,  were  its  most  deadly  opponents.  The  dog- 
mt  .tic  condemnation  by  theologians  of  loans  at  interest,  which 
arc  the  bash?  of  industrial  enterprise,  was  the  expression  of  a 
far  deeper  antagonism  of  tendencies  and  ideals. 


FROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE.  185 

In  one  important  respect,  the  transition  from  the  eremite 
to  the  monastic  life  involved  not  only  a change  of  circum- 
stances, but  also  a change  of  character.  The  habit  of 
obedience,  and  the  virtue  of  humility,  assumed  a position 
which  they  had  never  previously  occupied.  The  conditions 
of  the  hermit  life  contributed  to  develop  to  a very  high 
degree  a spirit  of  independence  and  spiritual  pride,  which  was 
still  further  increased  by  a curious  habit  that  existed  in  the 
Church  of  regarding  each  eminent  hermit  as  the  special  model 
or  professor  of  some  particular  virtue,  and  making  pilgrim- 
ages to  him,  in  order  to  study  this  aspect  of  his  character.1 
These  pilgrimages,  combined  with  the  usually  solitary  and 
self-sufficing  life  of  the  hermit,  and  also  with  the  habit  of 
measuring  progress  almost  entirely  by  the  suppression  of  a 
physical  appetite,  which  it  is  quite  possible  wholly  to  destroy, 
very  naturally  produced  an  extreme  arrogance.2  But  in  the 
highly  organised  and  disciplined  monasteries  of  the  West, 
passive  obedience  and  humility  were  the  very  first  things 
that  were  inculcated.  The  monastery,  beyond  all  other  insti- 
tutions, was  the  school  for  their  exercise ; and  as  the  monk 
represented  the  highest  moral  ideal  of  the  age,  obedience  and 
humility  acquired  a new  value  in  the  minds  of  men.  Nearly 


1 Cassian.  Cannb.  I nsiit . v.  4. 
See,  too,  some  striking  instances  of 
this  in  the  life  of  St.  Antony. 

2 This  spiritual  pride  is  well 
noticed  by  Neander,  Ecclesiastical 
History  (Bohn’s  ed.),  vol.  iii.  pp. 
321-323.  It  appears  in  many 
traits  scattered  through  the  lives  of 
these  saints.  I have  already  cited 
the  visions  telling  St.  Antony  and 
St.  Macarius  that  they  were  not  the 
best  c f living  people  ; and  also  the 
case  of  the  hermit,  who  was  deceived 
by  a devil  in  the  form  of  a woman,  be- 
cause he  had  been  exalted  by  pride. 


Another  hermit,  being  very  holy, 
received  pure  white  bread  every 
day  from  heaven,  but,  being  extra- 
vagantly dated,  the  bread  got  worse 
and  worse  till  it  became  perfectly 
black.  (Tillemont.  tome  x.  pp. 
27-28.)  A certain  Isidore  affirmed 
that  he  had  not  been  conscious  of 
sin,  even  in  thought,  for  forty  years. 
(Socrates,  iv.  23.)  It  was  a saying 
of  St.  Antony,  that  a solitary  man 
in  the  desert  is  free  from  three 
wars — of  sight,  speech,  and  hear- 
ing: he  has  to  combat  only  forni 
cation.  ( Apothegmata  Patrum.) 


186 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


all  the  feudal  and  other  organisations  that  arose  out  of  tha 
chaos  that  followed  the  destruct'on  of  the  ltoman  Empire 
were  intimately  related  to  the  Church,  not  simply  because 
the  Church  was  the  strongest  power  in  Christendom,  and 
supplied  ir.  itself  an  admirable  model  of  an  organised  body, 
but  also  because  it  had  done  much  to  educate  men  in  habits 
of  obedience.  The  special  value  of  this  education  depended 
upon  the  peculiar  circumstances  of  the  time.  The  ancient 
civilisations,  and  especially  that  of  Rome,  had  been  by  no 
means  deficient  in  those  habits ; but  it  was  in  the  midst  of 
the  dissolution  of  an  old  society,  and  of  the  ascendancy  of 
barbarians,  who  exaggerated  to  the  highest  degree  then-  per- 
sonal independence,  that  the  Church  proposed  to  the  reverence 
of  mankind  a life  of  passive  obedience  as  the  highest  ideal  of 
virtue. 

The  habit  of  obedience  was  no  new  thing  in  the  world, 
but  the  disposition  of  humility  was  pre-eminently  and  almost 
exclusively  a Christian  virtue  ; and  there  has  probably  never 
been  any  sphere  in  which  it  has  been  so  largely  and  so  suc- 
cessfully inculcated  as  in  the  monastery.  The  whole  peniten- 
tial discipline,  the  entire  mode  or  tenor  of  the  monastic  life, 
was  designed  to  tame  every  sentiment  of  pride,  and  to  give 
humility  a foremost  place  in  the  hierarchy  of  virtues.  We 
have  here  one  great  source  of  the  mollifying  influence  of 
Catholicism.  The  gentler  virtues — benevolence  and  amia- 
bility— may,  and  in  an  advanced  civilisation  often  do,  subsist 
in  natures  that  are  completely  devoid  of  genuine  humility ; 
but,  on  the  other  hand,  it  is  scarcely  possible  for  a nature  to 
be  pervaded  by  a deep  sentiment  of  humility  without  this 
sentiment  exercising  a softening  influence  over  the  whole 
chai-acter.  To  transform  a fierce  warlike  nature  into  a 
character  of  a gentler  type,  the  first  essential  is  to  awaken 
this  feeling.  In  the  monasteries,  the  extinction  of  social  and 
domestic  feelings,  the  narrow  corporate  spirit,  and,  still  more, 
the  atrocious  opinions  that  were  prevalent  concerning  the 


FROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE.  1ST 


guilt  of  heresy,  produced  in  many  minds  an  extreme  and  most 
active  ferocity ; but  the  practice  of  chaiity,  and  the  ideal  of 
humility,  never  failed  to  exercise  some  softening  influence 
upon  Christendom. 

But,  however  advantageous  the  temporary  pre-eminence 
of  this  moral  type  may  have  been,  it  was  obviously  unsuited 
for  a later  stage  of  civilisation.  Political  liberty  is  almost 
impossible  where  the  monastic  system  is  supreme,  not  merely 
because  the  monasteries  divert  the  energies  of  the  nation  from 
civic  to  ecclesiastical  channels,  but  also  because  the  monastic 
ideal  is  the  very  apotheosis  of  servitude.  Catholicism  has 
been  admirably  fitted  at  once  to  mitigate  and  to  perpetuate 
despotism.  When  men  have  learnt  to  reverence  a life  of 
passive,  unreasoning  obedience  as  the  highest  type  of  perfec- 
tion, the  enthusiasm  and  passion  of  freedom  necessarily  decline. 
In  this  respect  there  is  an  analogy  between  the  monastic  and 
the  military  spirit,  both  of  which  promote  and  glorify  passive 
obedience,  and  therefore  prepare  the  minds  of  men  for  de- 
spotic rule  ; but,  on  the  whole,  the  monastic  spirit  is  probably 
more  hostile  to  freedom  than  the  military  spirit,  for  the  obe- 
dience of  the  monk  is  based  upon  humility,  while  the  obedience 
of  the  soldier  coexists  with  pride.  Now,  a considerable 
measure  of  pride,  or  self-assertion,  is  an  invariable  charac- 
teristic of  free  communities. 

The  ascendancy  which  the  monastic  system  gave  to  the 
virtue  of  humility  has  not  continued.  This  virtue  is  indeed 
the  crowning  grace  and  beauty  of  the  most  perfect  characters 
of  the  saintty  type ; but  experience  has  shown  that  among 
common  men  humility  is  more  apt  to  degenerate  into  ser- 
vility than  pride  into  arrogance ; and  modern  moralists  have 
appealed  more  successfully  to  the  sense  of  dignity  than  to 
the  opposite  feeling.  Two  of  the  most  important  steps  of 
later  moral  history  have  consisted  of  the  creation  of  a senti- 
ment of  pride  as  the  parent  and  the  guardian  of  many  vir- 
tues. The  first  of  these  encroachments  on  the  monastic 


188 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


spirit  was  chivalry,  which  called  into  being  a proud  and 
jealous  military  honour  that  has  never  since  been  extin- 
guished. The  second  was  the  creation  of  that  feeling  of 
self-respect  which  is  one  of  the  most  remarkable  characteris 
tics  that  distinguish  Protestant  from  the  most  Catholic  popu- 
lations, and  which  has  proved  among  the  former  an  invalu- 
able moral  agent,  forming  frank  and  independent  natures, 
and  checking  every  servile  habit  and  all  mean  and  degrading 
vice.1  The  peculiar  vigour  with  which  it  has  been  developed 
in  Protestant  countries  may  be  attributed  to  the  suppression 
of  monastic  institutions  and  habits ; to  the  stigma  Protestant- 
ism has  attached  to  mendicancy,  which  Catholicism  has 
usually  glorified  and  encouraged  ■ Lo  the  high  place  Protest- 
antism has  accorded  to  private  judgment  and  personal  re- 
sponsibility ; and  lastly,  to  the  action  of  free  political  insti- 
tutions, which  have  taken  deepest  root  where  the  principles 
of  the  Reformation  have  been  accepted. 


The  relation  of  the  monasteries  to  the  intellectual  virtues, 
which  we  have  next  to  examine,  opens  out  a wide  field  of 


1 ‘Pride,  under  such  training 
[that  of  modern  rationalistic  philo- 
sophy], instead  of  running  to  waste, 
is  turned  to  account.  It  gets  a 
new  name  ; it  is  called  self-respect. 

. . . It  is  directed  into  the  channel 
of  industry,  frugality,  honesty,  and 
obedience,  and  it  becomes  the  very 
staple  of  the  religion  and  morality 
held  in  honour  in  a day  like  our 
own.  It  becomes  the  safeguard  of 
chastity,  the  guarantee  of  veracity, 
in  high  and  low;  it  is  the  very 
household  god  of  the  Protestant, 
inspiring  neatness  and  decency  in 
the  servaut-girl,  propriety  of  car- 
riage and  refined  manners  in  her 
mistress,  uprightness,  manliness, 
and  generosity  in  the  head  of  the 


family.  ...  It  is  the  stimulating 
principle  of  providence  on  the  on6 
hand,  and  of  free  expenditure  on 
the  other;  of  an  honourable  ambi- 
tion and  of  elegant  enjoyment.' — 
Newman,  On  University  Education, 
Discourse  ix.  In  the  same  lecture 
(which  is,  perhaps,  the  most  beau- 
tiful of  the  many  beautiful  pro- 
ductions of  its  illustrious  author), 
Dr.  Newman  describes,  with  admi- 
rable eloquence,  the  manner  in 
which  modesty  has  supplanted 
humility  in  the  modern  type  of 
excellence.  It  is  scarcely  necessary 
to  say  that  the  lecturer  strongly 
disapproves  of  the  movement  ha 
describes. 


FKOM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CIIAELEMAGNE.  189 


discussion ; and,  in  order  to  appreciate  it,  it  will  bo  necessary 
to  revert  briefly  to  a somewhat  earlier  stage  of  ecclesiastical 
history.  And  in  the  first  place,  it  may  be  observed,  that  the 
phrase  intellectual  virtue,  which  is  often  use  1 in  a metaphor- 
ical sense,  is  susceptible  of  a strictly  literal  interpretation. 
If  a sincere  and  active  desire  for  truth  be  a moral  duty,  the 
discipline  and  the  dispositions  that  are  plainly  involved  in 
every  honest  search  fall  rigidly  within  the  range  of  ethics. 
To  love  truth  sincerely  means  to  pursue  it  with  an  earnest, 
conscientious,  unflagging  zeal.  It  means  to  be  prepared  to 
follow  the  light  of  evidence  even  to  the  most  unwelcome 
conclusions  ; to  labour  earnestly  to  emancipate  the  mind  from 
early  prejudices  ; to  resist  the  current  of  the  desires,  and  the 
refracting  influence  of  the  passions  ; to  proportion  on  all  oc- 
casions conviction  to  evidence,  and  to  be  ready,  if  need  be,  to 
exchange  the  calm  of  assurance  for  all  the  suffering  of  a per- 
plexed and  disturbed  mind.  To  do  this  is  very  difficult  and 
very  painful ; but  it  is  clearly  involved  in  the  notion  of 
earnest  love  of  truth.  If,  then,  any  system  stigmatises  as 
criminal  the  state  of  doubt,  denounces  the  examination  of 
some  one  class  of  arguments  or  facts,  seeks  to  introduce  the 
bias  of  the  affections  into  the  enquiries  of  the  reason,  or 
regards  the  honest  conclusion  of  an  upright  investigator  as 
involving  moral  guilt,  that  system  is  subversive  of  intel- 
lectual honesty. 

Among  the  ancients,  although  the  methods  of  enquiry 
were  often  very  faulty,  and  generalisations  very  hasty,  a re- 
spect for  the  honest  search  after  truth  was  widely  diffused.1 
There  were,  as  we  have  already  seen,  instances  in  which 
certain  religious  practices  which  were  regarded  as  attestations 
of  loyalty,  or  as  necessary  to  propitiate  the  gods  in  favour  of 


'Thus  ‘indagatio  veri’  was  preserved  the  notion  of  the  moral 
reckoned  among  the  leading  virtues,  duties  connected  with  the  discipline 
and  the  high  place  given  to  crixpia  z£  the  intellect, 
and  ‘ prudentia  ’ in  ethical  writings 


190 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


the  State,  were  enforced  by  law;  there  were  even  a few 
instances  of  philosophies,  which  were  believed  to  lead  direct!  j 
to  immoral  results  or  social  eonvulsions,  being  suppressed ; 
but,  as  a general  rule,  speculation  was  untrammelled,  the 
notion  of  there  being  any  necessary  guilt  in  erroneous  opinion 
was  unknown,  and  the  boldest  enquirers  were  regarded  with 
honour  and  admiration.  The  religious  theory  of  Paganism 
had  in  this  respect  some  influence.  Polytheism,  with  many 
faults,  had  three  great  merits.  It  was  eminently  poetical, 
eminently  patriotic,  and  eminently  tolerant.  The  conception 
of  a vast  hierarchy  of  beings  more  glorious  than,  but  not 
wholly  unlike,  men,  presiding  over  all  the  developments  of 
nature,  and  filling  the  universe  with  their  deeds,  supplied  the 
chief  nutriment  of  the  Greek  imagination.  The  national 
religions,  interweaving  religious  ceremonies  and  associa- 
tions with  all  civic  life,  concentrated  and  intensified  the 
sentiment  of  patriotism,  and  the  notion  of  many  distinct 
groups  of  gods  led  men  to  tolerate  many  forms  of  worship 
and  great  variety  of  creeds.  In  that  colossal  amalgam  of 
nations  of  which  Rome  became  the  metropolis,  intellectual 
liberty  still  further  advanced  ; the  vast  variety  of  philosophies 
and  beliefs  expatiated  unmolested ; the  search  for  truth  was 
regarded  as  an  important  element  of  virtue,  and  the  relent- 
less and  most  sceptical  criticism  which  Socrates  had  applied 
in  turn  to  all  the  fundamental  propositions  of  popular  belief 
remained  as  an  example  to  his  successors. 

We  have  already  seen  that  one  leading  cause  of  the  rapid 
progress  of  the  Church  was  that  its  teachers  enforced  their 
distinctive  tenets  as  absolutely  essential  to  salvation,  and  thus 
assailed  at  a great  advantage  the  supporters  of  all  other  creeds 
which  did  not  claim  this  exclusive  authority.  We  have  seen, 
too,  that  in  an  age  of  great  and  growing  credulity  they  had 
been  conspicuous  for  their  assertion  of  the  duty  of  absolute, 
unqualified,  and  unquestioning  belief.  The  notion  of  the 
guilt  both  of  error  and  of  doubt  grew  rapidly,  and,  being 


FROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE.  191 


goon  regarded  as  a fundamental  tenet,  it  determined  tie 
vhole  course  and  policy  of  the  Church. 

And  here,  I think,  it  will  not  be  unadvisable  to  pause  for 
a moment,  and  endeavour  to  ascertain  what  misconceAed 
truth  lay  at  the  root  of  this  fatal  tenet.  Considered  ab- 
stractedly and  by  the  light  of  nature,  it  is  as  unmeaning  to 
speak  of  the  immorality  of  an  intellectual  mistake  as  it 
would  be  to  talk  of  the  colour  of  a sound.  If  a man  has 
sincerely  persuaded  himself  that  it  is  possible  for  parallel 
lines  to  meet,  or  for  two  straight  lines  to  enclose  a space,  we 
pronounce  his  judgment  to  be  absurd;  but  it  is  free  from  all 
tincture  of  immorality.  And  if,  instead  of  failing  to  appre- 
ciate a demonstrable  truth,  his  error  consisted  in  a fitise  esti- 
mate of  the  conflicting  arguments  of  an  historical  problem, 
tliis  mistake — assuming  always  that  the  enquiry  was  an  up- 
right one — is  still  simply  external  to  the  sphere  of  morals. 
It  is  possible  that  his  conclusion,  by  weakening  some  barrier 
against  vice,  may  produce  vicious  consequences,  like  those 
which  might  ensue  from  some  ill-advised  modification  of  the 
police  force ; but  it  in  no  degree  follows  from  this  that  the 
judgment  is  in  itself  criminal.  If  a student  applies  himself 
with  the  same  dispositions  to  Roman  and  Jewish  histories, 
the  mistakes  he  may  make  in  the  latter  are  no  more 
unmoral  than  those  which  he  may  make  in  the  former. 

There  are,  however,  two  cases  in  which  an  intellectual 
error  may  be  justly  said  to  involve,  or  at  least  to  represent, 
guilt.  In  the  first  place,  error  very  frequently  springs  from 
the  partial  or  complete  absence  of  that  mental  disposition 
which  is  implied  in  a real  love  of  truth.  Hypocrites,  or  men 
who  through  interested  motives  profess  opinions  which  they 
do  not  really  believe,  are  probably  rarer  than  is  usually  sup- 
posed ; but  it  would  be  difficult  to  over-estimate  the  number 
of  those  whose  genuine  convictions  are  due  to  the  unresisted 
bias  of  their  interests.  By  the  term  interests,  1 mean  not 
only  material  w*ell-being,  but  also  all  those  mental  luxuries, 


192 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


all  those  grooves  or  channels  for  thought,  which  it  is  easy  and 
pleasing  to  follow,  and  painful  and  difficult  to  abandon. 
Such  are  the  love  of  ease,  the  love  of  certainty,  the  love  of 
system,  the  bias  of  the  passions,  the  associations  of  the 
imagination,  as  well  as  the  coarser  influences  of  social 
position,  domestic  happiness,  professional  interest,  party 
feeling,  or  ambition.  In  most  men,  the  love  of  truth  is  so 
languid,  and  the  reluctance  to  encounter  mental  suffering  is 
so  great,  that  they  yield  their  judgments  without  an  effort  to 
the  current,  withdraw  their  minds  from  all  opinions  or 
arguments  opposed  to  their  own,  and  thus  speedily  convince 
themselves  of  the  truth  of  what  they  wish  to  believe.  He 
who  really  loves  truth  is  bound  at  least  to  endeavour  to 
resist  these  distorting  influences,  and  in  as  far  as  his  opinions 
are  the  result  of  his  not  having  done  so,  in  so  far  they  repre- 
sent a moral  failing. 

In  the  next  place,  it  must  be  observed  that  every  moral 
disposition  brings  with  it  an  intellectual  bias  which  exercises 
a great  and  often  a controlling  and  decisive  influence  even 
upon  the  most  earnest  enquirer.  If  we  know  the  chai’acter 
or  disposition  of  a man,  we  can  usually  predict  with 
tolerable  accuracy  many  of  his  opinions.  We  can  tell  to 
what  side  of  politics,  to  what  canons  of  taste,  to  what  theory 
of  morals  he  will  naturally  incline.  Stern,  heroic,  and 
haughty  natures  tend  to  systems  in  which  these  qualities 
occupy  the  foremost  position  in  the  moral  type,  while  gentle 
natures  will  as  naturally  lean  towards  systems  in  which  the 
amiable  virtues  are  supreme.  Impelled  by  a species  of  moral 
gravitation,  the  enquirer  will  glide  insensibly  to  the  system 
which  is  congruous  to  his  disposition,  and  intellectual  diffi- 
culties will  seklom  arrest  him.  He  can  have  observed 
human  nature  with  but  little  fruit  who  has  not  remarked 
how  constant  is  this  connection,  and  how  very  rarely  men 
change  fundamentally  the  principles  they  had  deliberately 
adopted  on  religious,  moral,  or  even  political  question^ 


FROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE.  193 


without  the  change  being  preceded,  accompanied,  or  very 
speedily  followed,  by  a serious  modification  of  character 
So,  too,  a vicious  and  depraved  nature,  or  a nature  which  is 
hard,  narrow,  and  unsympathetic,  will  tend,  much  less  by 
calculation  or  indolence  than  by  natural  affinity,  to  low  and 
degrading  views  of  human  nature.  Those  who  have  never 
felt  the  higher  emotions  will  scarcely  appreciate  them.  Tli6 
materials  with  which  the  intellect  builds  are  often  derived 
from  the  heart,  and  a moral  disease  is  therefore  not  unfre- 
quently  at  the  root  of  an  erroneous  judgment. 

Of  these  two  truths  the  first  cannot,  I think,  be  said  to 
have  had  any  influence  in  the  formation  of  the  theological 
notion  of  the  guilt  of  error.  An  elaborate  process  of  men- 
tal discipline,  with  a view  to  strengthening  the  critical  powers 
of  the  mind,  is  utterly  remote  from  the  spirit  of  theology ; 
and  this  is  one  of  the  great  reasons  why  the  growth  of  an 
inductive  and  scientific  spirit  is  invariably  hostile  to  theolo- 
gical interests.  To  raise  the  requisite  standard  of  proof,  to 
inculcate  hardness  and  slowness  of  belief,  is  the  first  task  of 
the  inductive  reasoner.  He  looks  with  great  favour  upon 
the  condition  of  a suspended  judgment;  he  encourages  men 
rather  to  prolong  than  to  abridge  it ; he  regards  the  tendency 
of  the  human  mind  to  rapid  and  premature  generalisations 
as  one  of  its  most  fatal  vices ; he  desires  especially  that  that 
which  is  believed  should  not  be  so  cherished  that  the  mind 
should  be  indisposed  to  admit  doubt,  or,  on  the  appearance 
of  new  arguments,  to  revise  with  impartiality  its  conclusions. 
Nearly  all  the  greatest  intellectual  achievements  of  the  last 
three  centuries  have  been  preceded  and  prepared  by  the 
gi-owth  of  scepticism.  The  historic  scepticism  which  Vico, 
Beaufort,  Pouilly,  and  Voltaire  in  the  last  century,  and 
Niebuhr  and  Lewis  in  the  present  century,  applied  to  ancient 
history,  lies  at  the  root  of  all  the  great  modern  efforts  to  re- 
construct the  history  of  mankind.  The  splendid  discoveries 
of  physical  science  would  have  been  impossible  but  for  the 


194 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


scientific  scepticism  of  the  school  of  Bacon,  which  dissipated 
the  old  theories  of  the  universe,  and  led  men  to  demand  a 
sevei'ity  of  proof  altogether  unknown  to  the  ancients.  The 
philosophic  scepticism  with  which  the  system  of  Hume 
ended  and  the  system  of  Kant  began,  has  given  the  greatest 
modern  impulse  to  metaphysics  and  ethics.  Exactly  in  pro- 
portion, therefore,  as  men  are  educated  in  the  inductive 
school,  they  are  alienated  from  those  theological  systems 
which  represent  a condition  of  doubt  as  sinful,  seek  to  govern 
the  reason  by  the  interests  and  the  affections,  and  make  it  a 
main  object  to  destroy  the  impartiality  of  the  judgment. 

But  although  it  is  difficult  to  look  upon  Catholicism  in 
any  other  light  than  as  the  most  deadly  enemy  of  the 
scientific  spirit,  it  has  always  cordially  recognised  the  most 
important  truth,  that  character  in  a very  great  measure 
determines  opinions.  To  cultivate  the  moral  type  that  is 
most  congenial  to  the  opinions  it  desires  to  recommend  has 
always  been  its  effort,  and  the  conviction  that  a deviation 
from  that  type  has  often  been  the  predisposing  cause  of  intel- 
lectual heresy,  had  doubtless  a large  share  in  the  first  persua- 
sion of  the  guilt  of  error.  But  priestly  and  other  influences 
soon  conspired  to  enlarge  this  doctrine.  A crowd  of  specu- 
lative, historical,  and  administi’ative  propositions  were 
asserted  as  essential  to  salvation,  and  all  who  rejected  them 
were  wholly  external  to  the  bond  of  Christian  sympathy. 

If,  indeed,  we  put  aside  the  pure  teaching  of  the  Christian 
founders,  and  consider  the  actual  history  of  the  Church  since 
Constantine,  we  shall  find  no  justification  for  the  popular 
theory  that  beneath  its  influence  the  narrow  spirit  of  patriot- 
ism faded  into  a wide  and  cosmopolitan  philanthropy.  A 
real  though  somewhat  languid  feeling  of  universal  brother- 
hood had  already  been  created  in  the  world  by  the  univer- 
sality of  the  Roman  Empire.  In  the  new  faith  the  range  of 
genuine  sympathy  was  strictly  limited  by  the  creed.  Ac- 
cording to  the  popular  belief,  all  who  differed  from  the 


FROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE.  195 


teaching  of  the  orthodox  lived  under  the  hatred  of  the 
Almighty,  and  were  destined  after  death  for  an  eternity  of 
anguish.  Very  naturally,  therefore,  they  were  wholly 
alienated  from  the  true  believers,  and  no  moral  or  intellectual 
excellence  could  atone  for  their  crime  in  propagating  error. 
The  eighty  or  ninety  sects, 1 into  which  Christianity  speedily 
divided,  hated  one  another  with  an  intensity  that  extorted 
the  wonder  of  Julian  and  the  ridicule  of  the  Pagans  of 
Alexandria,  and  the  fierce  riots  and  persecutions  that  hatred 
produced  appear  in  every  page  of  ecclesiastical  history. 
There  is,  indeed,  sometliing  at  once  grotesque  and  ghastly  in 
the  spectacle.  The  Donatists,  having  separated  from  the 
orthodox  simply  on  the  question  of  the  validity  of  the  conse- 
cration of  a certain  bishop,  declared  that  all  who  adopted 
the  orthodox  view  must  be  damned,  refused  to  perform  their 
rites  in  the  orthodox  churches  which  they  had  seized,  till  they 
had  burnt  the  altar  and  scraped  the  wood,  beat  multitudes  to 
death  with  clubs,  blinded  other's  by  anointing  their  eyes  with 
lime,  filled  Africa,  during  nearly  two  centuries,  with  war1  and 
desolation,  and  contributed  largely  to  its  final  ruin.2  The 
childish  and  almost  unintelligible  quarrels  between  the 
Homoiousians  and  the  Homoousians,  between  those  who 
maintained  that  the  nature  of  Christ  was  like  that  of  the 
Father  and  those  who  maintained  that  it  was  the  same, 
filled  the  world  with  riot  and  hatred.  The  Catholics  tell 
how  an  Arian  Emperor  caused  eighty  orthodox  priests  to  be 
drowned  on  a single  occasion  ■ 3 how  three  thousand  persons 
perished  in  the  riots  that  convulsed  Constantinople  when  the 
A rian  Bishop  Macedonius  superseded  the  Athanasian  Paul ; 4 
how  George  of  Cappadocia,  the  Arian  Bishop  of  Alexandria, 


1 St.  Augustine  reckoned  eighty-  3 Socrates,  II.  E.,  iv.  16.  This 
e'ght  sects  as  existing  in  his  time.  anecdote  is  much  doubted  by 

2 (See  a full  account  of  these  modern  historians, 

persecutions  in  Tillemont,  Mem.  4 Milman’s  Hist,  of  Christianity) 

d' Histoire  eccles.  tome  vi.  (ed.  1867),  vol.  ii.  p.  422. 


196 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


caused  the  widows  of  the  Athanasian  party  to  be  scourged 
on  the  soles  of  their  feet,  the  holy  virgins  to  he  stripped 
naked,  to  be  flogged  with  the  prickly  branches  of  palm-trees, 
or  to  be  slowly  scorched  over  fires  till  they  abjured  their 
creed.1  The  triumph  of  the  Catholics  in  Egypt  was  accom- 
panied (if  we  may  believe  the  solemn  assertions  of  eighty 
Arian  Bishops)  by  every  variety  of  plunder,  murder,  sacri- 
lege, and  outrage,2  and  Arius  himself  was  probably  poi- 
soned by  Catholic  hands.3  The  followers  of  St.  Cyril  of 
Alexandria,  who  were  chiefly  monks,  filled  their  city  with 
riot  and  bloodshed,  wounded  the  prefect  Orestes,  dragged  the 
pure  and  gifted  Hypatia  into  one  of  their  churches,  murdered 
her,  tore  the  flesh  from  her  bones  with  sharp  shells,  and, 
having  stripped  her  body  naked,  flung  her  mangled  remains 
into  the  flames.4  In  Ephesus,  during  the  contest  between 
St.  Cyril  and  the  Nestorians,  the  cathedral  itself  was  the 
theatre  of  a fierce  and  bloody  conflict.5  Constantinople,  on 
the  occasion  of  the  deposition  of  St.  Chrysostom,  was  for 
several  days  in  a condition  of  absolute  anarchy.6  After  the 
Council  of  Chalcedon,  Jerusalem  and  A lexandria  were  again 
convulsed,  and  the  bishop  of  the  latter  city  was  murdered 
in  his  baptistery.7  About  fifty  years  later,  when  the  Mono- 
physite  controversy  was  at  its  height,  the  palace  of  the 
emperor  at  Constantinople  was  blockaded,  the  churches  were 
besieged,  and  the  streets  commanded  by  furious  bands  of 
contending  monks.8  Repressed  for  a time,  the  riots  broke 


1 St.  Athanasius,  Historical 
Treatises  (Library  of  the  Fathers), 
pp.  192,  284. 

2 Milman,  Hist,  of  Christianity , 
ii.  pp.  436-437. 

3 The  death  of  Arius,  as  is  well 

known,  took  place  suddenly  (his 

bowels,  it  is  said,  coming  out)  when 

he  was  just  about  to  make  his 

triumphal  entry  into  the  Cathe- 

dral of  Constantinople.  The  death 
(though  possibly  natural)  never 


seems  to  have  been  regarded  as 
such,  but  it  was  a matter  of  con- 
troversy whether  it  was  a miracl* 
or  a murder. 

4  Socrates,  H.  K..  vii.  13-15. 

6  Milman.  Hist,  of  Latin  Chris - 
tianity,  vol.  i.  pp.  214-215. 

6 Milman,  Hist,  of  Christianity , 
vol.  iii.  p.  145. 

7 Milman,  Hist,  of  Latin  Chri& 
tianity,  vol.  i.  pp.  290-291. 

8 Ibid.  vol.  i.  pp.  310-311. 


FROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE. 


197 


out  two  years  after  with  an  increased  ferocity,  and  almost 
every  leading  city  of  the  East  was  filled  by  the  monks  with 
bloodshed  and  with  outrage.1  St.  Augustine  himself  is  accused 
of  having  excited  every  kind  of  popular  persecution  against 
the  Semi-Pelagians.2  The  Councils,  animated  by  an  almost 
frantic  hatred,  urged  on  by  their  anathemas  the  rival  sects.3 
In  the  ‘ Robber  Council  ’ of  Ephesus,  Flavianus,  the  Bishop 
of  Constantinople,  was  kicked  and  beaten  by  the  Bishop  of 
Alexandria,  or  at  least  by  his  followers,  and  a few  days  later 
died  from  the  effect  of  the  blows.4  In  the  contested  election 


that  resulted  in  the  election  of  St.  Damasus  as  Pope  of  Rome, 
though  no  theological  question  appears  to  have  been  at  issue, 
the  riots  were  so  fierce  that  one  hundred  and  thirty-seven 
corpses  were  found  in  one  of  the  churches.5  The  precedent 


1 Milman,  Hist,  of  Latin  Chris- 
tianity, vol.  i.  pp.  314-318. 
Dean  Milman  thus  sums  up  the 
history : ‘ Monks  in  Alexandria, 
monks  in  Antioch,  monks  in  Jeru- 
salem, monks  in  Constantinople, 
decide  peremptorily  on  orthodoxy 
and  heterodoxy.  The  bishops 
themselves  cower  before  them. 
Macedonius  in  Constantinople,  Fla- 
vianus in  Antioch,  Elias  in  Jeru- 
salem, condemn  themselves  and 
abdicate,  or  are  driven  from  their 
sees.  Persecution  is  universal  — 
persecution  by  every  means  of  vio 
lence  and  cruelty ; the  only  question 
is,  in  whose  hands  is  the  power  to 
persecute.  . . . Bloodshed,  murder, 
treachery,  assassination,  even  dur- 
ing the  public  worship  of  God — 
these  are  the  frightful  means  by 
which  each  party  strives  to  main- 
tain its  opinions  and  to  defeat  its 
adversary.’ 

2 See  a striking  passage  from 
Julianus  of  Eclana,  cited  by  Mil- 
man,  Hist,  of  Latin  Christianity , 

vol.  i.  p.  164. 

‘Nowhere  is  Christianity  less 

45 


attractive  than  in  the  Councils  of 
the  Church.  . . . Intrigue,  injus- 
tice, violence,  decisions  on  authority 
alone,  and  that  the  authority  of  a 
turbulent  majority,  . . . detract 
from  the  reverence  and  impugn  the 
judgments  of  at  least  the  later 
Councils.  The  close  is  almost  in- 
variably a terrible  anathema,  in 
which  it  is  impossible  not  to  dis- 
cern the  tones  of  human  hatred,  of 
arrogafit  triumph,  of  rejoicing  at 
the  damnation  imprecated  against 
the  humiliated  adversary.’ — Ibid, 
vol.  i.  p.  202. 

4 See  the  account  of  this  scene  in 
Gibbon,  Decline  and  Fall.  ch.  xlvii. ; 
Milman,  Hist,  of  Latin  Christianity, 
vol.  i.  p.  263.  There  is  a con-, 
flict  of  authorities  as  to  whether 
the  Bishop  of  Alexandria  himself 
kickod  his  adv'  rsary,  or,  to  speak 
more  correctly,  the  act  which  is 
charged  against  him  by  some  con- 
temporary writers  is  not  charged 
against  him  by  others.  The  vio- 
lence was  certainly  done  by  his 
followers  and  in  his  presence. 

5 AmmianusMarcfcIlinus,xxvii.3. 


19S 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


of  the  Jewish  persecutions  of  idolatry  having  been  adduced 
by  St.  Cyprian,  in  the  third  century,  in  favour  of  excom- 
munication,1 was  urged  by  Optatus,  in  the  reign  of  Constan- 
tine, in  favour  of  persecuting  the  Donatists  • 2 in  the  nes  t 
reign  we  find  a large  body  of  Christians  presenting  to  tha 
emperor  a petition,  based  upon  this  precedent,  imploring 
him  to  destroy  by  force  the  Pagan  worship.3  About  fifteen 
years  later,  the  whole  Christian  Church  was  prepared,  on  the 
same  grounds,  to  support  the  persecuting  policy  of  St. 
Ambrose,4  the  contending  sects  having  found,  in  the  duty  of 
crushing  religious  liberty,  the  solitary  tenet  on  which  they 
were  agreed.  The  most  unaggressive  and  unobtrusive  forms 
of  Paganism  were  persecuted  with  the  same  ferocity.5  To 
offer  a sacrifice  was  to  commit  a capital  offence ; to  hang  up 
a simple  chaplet  was  to  incur  the  forfeiture  of  an  estate. 
The  noblest  works  of  Asiatic  architecture  and  of  Greek 
sculpture  perished  by  the  same  iconoclasm  that  shattered  the 
humble  temple  at  which  the  peasant  loved  to  pray,  or  the 
household  gods  which  consecrated  his  home.  There  were  no 
varieties  of  belief  too  minute  for  the  new  intolerance  to 
embitter.  The  question  of  the  proper  time  of  celebrating 
Easter  was  believed  to  involve  the  issue  of  salvation  or 
damnation ; 6 and  when,  long  after,  in  the  fourteenth  century, 


1 Cyprian,  Ep.  lxi. 

2 Milman,  Hist,  of  Christianity, 
vol.  ii.  p.  306. 

3 Ibid.  iii.  10. 

4 1 By  this  time  the  Old  Testa- 
ment language  and  sentiment  with 
regard  to  idolatry  were  completely 
incorporated  with  the  Christian 
feeling ; and  when  Ambrose  en- 

forced on  a Christian  Emperor  the 
sacred  duty  of  intolerance  against 
opinions  and  practices  which 
scarcely  a century  before  had  been 

the  established  religion  of  the 
Empire,  his  zeal  was  supported  by 


almost  the  unanimous  applause  of 
the  Christian  world.’ — Milman’c 
Hist,  of  Christianity,  vol.  iii.  p.  159. 

5 See  the  Theodosian  laws  of 
Paganism. 

6 This  appears  from  the  whole 
history  of  the  controversy  ; but  the 
prevailing  feeling  is,  I think,  ex- 
pressed with  peculiar  vividness  ie 
the  following  passage: — ‘Eadmer 
says  (following  the  words  of  Bede) 
in  Colman’s  times  there  was  a sharp 
controversy  about  the  observing  of 
Easter,  and  other  rules  of  life  for 
churchmen ; therefore,  this  ques- 


FROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE. 


199 


the  question  of  the  nature  of  the  light  at  the  transfigura- 
tion was  discussed  at  Constantinople,  those  who  refused  to 
admit  that  that  light  was  uncreated,  were  deprived  of  the 
honours  of  Christian  burial. 1 

Together  with  these  legislative  and  ecclesiastical  measures, 
a literature  arose  surpassing  in  its  mendacious  ferocity  any 
other  the  world  had  known.  The  polemical  writers  habitually 
painted  as  daemons  those  who  diverged  from  the  orthodox 
belief,  gloated  with  a vindictive  piety  over  the  sufferings  of 
the  heretic  upon  earth,  as  upon  a Divine  punishment,  and 
sometimes,  with  an  almost  superhuman  malice,  passing  in 
imagination  beyond  the  threshold  of  the  grave,  exulted  in 
no  ambiguous  terms  on  the  tortures  which  they  believed  to 
be  reserved  for  him  for  ever.  A few  men,  such  as  Synesius, 
Basil,  or  Salvian,  might  still  find  some  excellence  in  Pagans 
or  heretics,  but  their  candour  was  altogether  exceptional ; 
and  he  who  will  compare  the  beautiful  pictures  the  Greek 
] >oets  gave  of  their  Trojan  adversaries,  or  the  Roman  historians 
of  the  enemies  of  their  country,  with  those  which  ecclesiastical 
writers,  for  many  centuries,  almost  invariably  gave  of  all 
who  were  opposed  to  their  Church,  may  easily  estimate  the 
extent  to  which  cosmopolitan  sympathy  had  retrograded. 

At  the  period,  however,  when  the  Western  monasteries 
began  to  discharge  their  intellectual  functions,  the  supremacy 
of  Catholicism  was  nearly  established,  and  polemical  ardour 
had  begun  to  wane.  The  literary  zeal  of  the  Church  took 
other  forms,  but  all  were  deeply  tinged  by  the  monastic 
spirit.  It  is  difficult  or  impossible  to  conceive  what  would 
have  been  the  intellectual  future  of  the  world  had  Catholicism 
never  arisen — what  principles  or  impidses  would  have  guided 
the  course  of  the  human  mind,  or  what  new  institutions 

tion  deservedly  excited  the  minds  run,  or  had  run  in  vain. — King’s 
and  feeling  of  many  people,  fearing  Hist,  of  the  Church  of  Ireland , book 
lest,  perhaps,  after  having  received  li.  eh.  vi. 
the  name  of  Christians,  they  skoidd  1 Gibbon,  chap,  lxiii. 


200 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


would  have  been  created  for  its  culture.  Under  the  influence 
of  Catholicism,  the  monastery  became  the  one  sphere  of 
intellectual  labour,  and  it  continued  during  many  centuries 
to  occupy  that  position.  Without  entering  into  anything 
resembling  a literary  history,  which  would  he  foreign  to  the 
objects  of  the  present  work,  I shall  endeavour  brief!}  to 
estimate  the  maimer  in  which  it  discharged  its  functions. 

The  first  idea  that  is  naturally  suggested  by  the  mention 
of  the  intellectual  services  of  monasteries  is  the  presentation 
of  the  writings  of  the  Pagans.  I have  already  observed 
that  among  the  early  Christians  there  was  a marked  difference 
on  the  subject  of  their  writings.  The  school  which  was 
represented  by  Tertu Ilian  regarded  them  with  abhorrence  ; 
while  the  Platonists,  who  were  represented  by  Justin  Martyr, 
Clement  of  Alexandria,  and  Origen,  not  merely  recognised 
with  great  cordiality  their  beauties,  but  even  imagined  that 
they  could  detect  in  them  both  the  traces  of  an  original 
Divine  inspiration,  and  plagiai’isms  from  the  Jewish  writings. 
While  avoiding,  for  the  most  part,  these  extremes,  St.  Augus- 
tine, the  great  organiser  of  Western  Chiistianity,  treats  the 
Pagan  writings  with  appreciative  respect.  He  had  himself 
ascribed  his  first  conversion  from  a course  of  vice  to  tlio 
‘ Hortensius  ’ of  Cicero,  and  his  works  are  full  of  discrimi- 
nating, and  often  very  beautiful,  applications  of  the  old 
Roman  literature.  The  attempt  of  Julian  to  prevent  the 
Christians  from  teaching  the  classics,  and  the  extreme  resent- 
ment which  that  attempt  elicited,  show  how  highly  the 
Christian  leaders  of  that  period  valued  this  form  of  education ; 
and  it  was  naturally  the  more  cherished  on  account  of  the 
contest.  The  influence  of  Neoplatonism,  the  baptism  of 
multitudes  of  nominal  Christians  after  Constantine,  and  the 
decline  of  zeal  which  necessarily  accompanied  prosperity, 
had  all  in  different  ways  the  same  tendency.  In  Synesius 
we  have  the  curious  phenomenon  of  a bishop  who,  not  con- 
tent with  proclaiming  himself  the  admiring  friend  of  the 


PROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE. 


201 


Pagan  Hypatia,  openly  declared  liis  complete  disbelief  in  the 
resurrection  of  the  body,  and  Ms  firm  adhesion  to  the  Pla- 
tonic doctrine  of  the  pre-existence  of  souls.1  Had  the 
ecclesiastical  theory  prevailed  wMch  gave  such  latitude  even 
to  the  leaders  of  the  Church,  the  course  of  Christianity  would 
Lave  been  very  different.  A reactionary  spirit,  however, 
arose  at  Rome.  The  doctrine  of  exclusive  salvation  supplied 
its  intellectual  basis;  the  political  and  orgamsing  gernus  of 
the  Roman  ecclesiastics  impelled  them  to  reduce  belief  into 
a rigid  form ; the  gemus  of  St.  Gregory  gMded  the  movement,2 
and  a series,  of  historical  events,  of  wMch  the  ecclesiastical 
and  political  separation  of  the  Western  empire  from  the 
speculative  Greeks,  and  the  invasion  and  conversion  of  the 
barbarians,  were  the  most  important,  definitely  established 
the  ascendancy  of  the  Catholic  type.  In  the  convulsions 
that  followed  the  barbarian  invasions,  intellectual  energy  of 
a secular  kind  almost  absolutely  ceased.  A parting  gleam 
issued,  indeed,  in  the  sixth  century,  from  the  Court  of  Theo- 
doric,  at  Ravenna,  which  was  adorned  by  the  genius  of 


1 An  interesting  sketch  of  this 
very  interesting  prelate  has  lately 
been  written  by  M.  Druon,  Etude 
stir  /a  Vie  et  les  (Euvre-s  de  St/ne- 
sius  (Paris,  1859). 

2 Tradition  has  pronounced  Gre- 
gory the  Great  to  have  been  the 
destroyer  of  the  Palatine  library, 
and  to  have  been  especially  zealous 
in  burning  the  writings  of  Livy, 
because  they  described  the  achieve- 
ments of  the  Pagan  gods.  For 
these  charges,  however  (which  I 
am  sorry  to  find  repeated  by  so 
eminent  a writer  as  Dr.  Draper), 
there  is  no  real  evidence,  for  they 
are  not  found  in  any  writer  earlier 
than  the  twelfth  century.  (See 
Bayle,  Diet.  art.  ‘ Greg.’)  The  ex- 
treme contempt  of  Gregory  for 
Pagan  literature  is,  however,  suffi- 


ciently manifested  in  his  famous 
and  very  curious  letter  to  Deside - 
rius,  Bishop  of  Vienne,  rebuking 
him  for  having  taught  certain  per- 
sons Pagan  literature,  and  thus 
mingled  ‘ the  praises  of  Jupiter 
with  the  praises  of  Christ;’  doing 
what  would  be  impious  even  for  a 
religious  layman,  ‘polluting  the 
mind  with  the  blasphemous  praises 
of  the  wicked.’  Some  curious  evi- 
dence of  the  feelings  of  the  Chris- 
tians of  the  fourth,  fifth,  and  sixth 
centuries,  about  Pagan  literature, 
is  given  in  Guinguen6,  Hist,  litte- 
raire  de  I’ltalie,  tome  i.  p.  29-31. 
and  some  legends  of  a later  period 
are  candidly  related  by  one  of  the 
most  enthusiastic  English  advocates 
of  tho  Middle  Ages.  (Maitland, 
Dark  Ages.') 


202 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


Boethius,  and  the  talent  of  Cassiodorus  and  Symmaclras; 
but  after  this  time,  for  a long  period,  literature  consisted 
almost  exclusively  of  sermons  and  lives  of  saints,  which 
were  composed  in  the  monasteries.1  Gregory  of  Tours 
was  succeeded  as  an  annalist  by  the  still  feebler  Frede- 
garius,  and  there  was  then  a long  and  absolute  blank.  A 
few  outlying  countries  showed  some  faint  animation.  St. 
Leander  and  St.  Isidore  planted  at  Seville  a school,  which 
nourished  in  the  seventh  century,  and  the  distant  monas- 
teries of  Ireland  continued  somewhat  later  to  be  the 
receptacles  of  learning  ; but  the  rest  of  Europe  sank  into  an 
almost  absolute  torpor,  till  the  rationalism  of  Abelard,  and 
the  events  that  followed  the  crusades,  began  the  revival  of 
learning.  The  principal  service  which  Catholicism  rendered 
during  this  period  to  Pagan  literature  was  probably  the  per- 
petuation of  Latin  as  a sacred  language.  The  complete 
absence  of  all  curiosity  about  that  literature  is  shown  by  the 
fact  that  Greek  was  suffered  to  become  almost  absolutely 
extinct,  though  there  was  no  time  when  the  Western  nations 
had  not  some  relations  with  the  Greek  empire,  or  when 
pilgrimages  to  the  Holy  Land  altogether  ceased.  The  study 
of  the  Latin  classics  was  for  the  most  part  positively  dis- 
couraged. The  writers,  it  was  believed,  were  burning  in 
hell ; the  monks  were  too  inflated  with  their  imaginary 
knowledge  to  regard  with  any  respect  a Pagan  writer,  and 
periodical  panics  about  the  approaching  termination  of  the 


1 Probably  the  best  account  of 
the  intellectual  history  of  these 
times  is  still  to  be  found  in  the  ad- 
mirable introductory  chapters  with 
which  the  Benedictines  prefaced 
each  century  of  their  Hist,  litteraire 
do  la  France.  The  Benedictines 
think  (with  Hallam)  that  the 
eighth  century  was,  on  the  whole, 
the  darkest  on  the  continent,  though 


England  attained  its  lowest  point 
somewhat  later.  Of  the  great  pro- 
tectors of  learning  Theodoric  was 
unable  to  write  (see  Guinguen6, 
tome  i.  p.  31),  and  Charlemagne 
(Eginhard)  only  began  to  learn 
when  advanced  in  life,  and  was 
never  quite  able  to  master  the  ac- 
complishment. Alfred,  however, 
was  distinguished  in  literature 


FROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE. 


203 


world  continually  checked  any  desire  for  secular  learning.1 
It  was  the  custom  among  some  monks,  when  they  were  under 
the  discipline  of  silence,  and  desired  to  ask  for  Virgil,  Horace, 
or  any  other  Gentile  work,  to  indicate  their  wish  by  scratching 
their  ears  like  a dog,  to  which  animal  it  was  thought  the 
Pagans  might  be  reasonably  compared.2  The  monasteries 
contained,  it  is  said,  during  some  time,  the  only  libraries  in 
Europe,  and  were  therefore  the  sole  receptacles  of  the  Pagan 
manuscripts ; but  we  cannot  infer  from  this  that,  if  the 
monasteries  had  not  existed,  similar  libraries  would  not  have 
been  called  into  being  in  their  place.  To  the  occasional 
industry  of  the  monks,  in  copying  the  works  of  antiquity, 
we  must  oppose  the  industry  they  displayed,  though  chiefly 
at  a somewhat  later  period,  in  scraping  the  ancient  parch- 
ments, in  order  that,  having  obliterated  the  wilting  of  the 
Pagans,  they  might  cover  them  with  their  own  legends.3 

There  are  some  aspects,  however,  in  which  the  monastic 
period  of  literature  appears  eminently  beautiful.  The  fret- 


1  The  belief  that  the  world  was 
just  about  to  end  was,  as  is  well 

known,  very  general  among  the 

early  Christians,  and  greatly 
affected  their  lives.  It  appears  in 
the  New  Testament,  and  very 
clearly  in  the  epistle  ascribed  to 
Barnabas  in  the  first  century.  The 
persecutions  of  the  second  and 
third  centuries  revived  it,  and  both 
Tertullian  and  Cyprian  (i«  Dsme- 
trianum ) strongly  assert  it.  With 
the  triumph  of  Christianity  the 
apprehension  for  a time  subsided  ; 
but  it  reappeared  with  great  force 
when  the  dissolution  of  the  Empire 
was  manifestly  impending,  when  it 
was  accomplished,  and  in  the  pro- 
longed anarchy  and  suffering  that 
ensued.  Gregory  of  Tours,  writing 
in  the  latter  part  of  the  sixth  cen- 


tury, speaks  of  it  as  very  prevalent 
( Prologue  to  the  First  Book) ; and 
St.  Gregory  the  Great,  about  the 
same  time,  constantly  expresses  it. 
The  panic  that  filled  Europe  at  the 
end  of  the  tenth  century  has  been 
often  described. 

2 Maitland’s  Dark  Ages,  p.  403. 

3 This  passion  for  scraping 
MSS  became  common,  according  to 
Montfaucon,  after  the  twelfth  cen- 
tury. (Maitland,  p.  40.)  According 
to  Hallam,  however  ( Middle  Ages, 
ch.  ix.  part  i.),  it  must  have  begun 
earlier,  being  chiefly  caused  by  the 
cessation  or  great  diminution  of 
the  supply  of  Egyptian  papyrus, 
in  consequence  of  the  capture  of 
Alexandria  by  the  Saracens,  early 
in  the  seventh  century. 


204: 


HISTORY  OE  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


fulness  and  impatience  and  extreme  tension  of  modem  literal-} 
life,  the  many  anxieties  that  paralyse,  and  the  feverish  craving 
for  applause  that  perverts,  so  many  noble  intellects,  were 
then  unknown.  Severed  from  all  the  cares  of  active  life,  in 
the  deep  calm  of  the  monastery,  where  the  turmoil  of  the 
outer  world  could  never  come,  the  monkish  scholar  pursued 
his  studies  in  a spirit  which  has  now  almost  faded  from  the 
world.  No  doubt  had  ever  disturbed  his  mind.  To  him  the 
problem  of  the  universe  seemed  solved.  Expatiating  for  ever 
with  unfaltering  faith  upon  the  unseen  world,  he  had  learnt 
to  live  for  it  alone.  His  hopes -were  not  fixed  upon  human 
greatness  or  fame,  but  upon  the  pardon  of  his  sins,  and  the 
rewards  of  a happier  world.  A crowd  of  quaint  and  often 
beautiful  legends  illustrate  the  deep  union  that  subsisted 
between  literature  and  religion.  It  is  related  of  Caedmon, 
the  first  great  poet  of  the  Anglo-  Saxons,  that  he  found  in  the 
secular  life  no  vent  for  his  hidden  genius.  When  the  war- 
liors  assembled  tit  their  banquets,  sting  in  turn  the  praises  of 
war  or  beauty,  as  the  instrument  passed  to  him,  he  rose  and 
went  out  with  a sad  heart,  for  he  alone  was  unable  to  weave 
his  thoughts  in  verse.  Wearied  and  desponding  he  lay  down 
to  rest,  when  a figure  appeared  to  him  in  his  dream  and  com- 
manded him  to  sing  the  Creation  of  the  World.  A trans- 
port of  religious  fervour  thrilled  his  brain,  his  imprisoned 
intellect  was  unlocked,  and  he  soon  became  the  foremost 
poet  of  his  land.1  A Spanish  boy,  having  long  tided  in  vain 
to  master  his  task,  and  driven  to  despair  by  the  severity  of 
his  teacher,  ran  away  from  liis  father’s  home.  Tired  with 
wandering,  and  full  of  anxious  thoughts,  he  sat  down  to  rest 
by  the  margin  of  a well,  when  his  eye  was  caught  by  the 
deep  furrow  in  the  stone.  He  asked  a girl  who  was  drawing 
water  to  explain  it,  and  she  told  him  that  it  had  been  worn 
by  the  constant  attrition  of  the  rope.  The  poor  boy,  who 


1 IScdc,  II.  E.  iv.  21. 


FROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE. 


205 


was  already  full  of  remorse  for  what  he  had  done,  recognised 
in  the  reply  a Divine  intimation.  ‘ If,’  he  thought,  ‘ by  daily 
use  the  soft  rope  could  thus  penetrate  the  hard  stone,  surely 
a long  perseverance  could  overcome  the  dub.  ess  of  my 
brain.’  He  returned  to  his  father’s  house ; he  laboured  with 
redoubled  earnestness,  and  he  lived  to  be  the  great  St.  Isidore 
of  Spain.1  A monk  who  had  led  a vicious  life  was  saved,  it 
is  said,  from  hell,  because  it  was  found  that  his  sins,  though 
v;ry  numerous,  were  just  outnumbered  by  the  letters  of  a 
ponderous  and  devout  book  he  had  written.2  The  Holy 
Spirit,  in  the  shape  of  a dove,  had  been  seen  to  inspire  St. 
Gregory ; and  the  writings  of  St.  Thomas  Aquinas,  and  of 
several  other  theologians,  had  been  expressly  applarrded  by 
Christ  or  by  his  saints.  When,  twenty  years  after  death,  the 
tomb  of  a certain  monkish  writer  was  opened,  it  was  found 
that,  although  the  remainder  of  the  body  had  crumbled  into 
dust,  the  hand  that  had  held  the  pen  remained  flexible  and 
undecayed.3  A young  and  nameless  scholar  was  once  buried 
near  a convent  at  Bonn.  The  night  after  his  funeral,  a nun 
whose  cell  overlooked  the  cemetery  was  awakened  by  a bril- 
liant light  that  filled  the  room.  She  started  up,  imagining 
that  the  day  had  dawned,  but  on  looking  out  she  found  that 
it  was  still  night,  though  a dazzling  splendom-  was  around. 
A female  form  of  matchless  loveliness  was  bending  over  the 
scholar’s  grave.  The  effluence  of  her  beauty  filled  the  air 
with  light,  and  she  clasped  to  her  heart  a snow-white  dove 
that  rose  to  meet  her  from  the  tomb.  It  was  the  Mother  of 

1 Mariana,  Dr  Rebus  Hispania,  be  adduced — a remarkable  instance 

vi,  7.  Mariana  says  the  stone  was  of  the  advantages  of  a diffuse  style, 
in  his  time  preserved  as  a relic.  3 Digby,  Mores  Catholici,  book 

2 Odericus  Vitalis,  quoted  by  x.  p.  216.  Matthew  of  Westmin- 
Maitland  (Dark  Ages,  pp.  268-269).  ster  tells  of  a certain  king  who  was 
The  monk  was  restored  to  life  that  very  charitable,  and  whose  right 
he  might  have  an  opportunity  of  hand  (which  had  assuaged  many 
reformation.  The  escape  was  a sorrows)  remained  undeeayed  after 
Darrow  one,  for  there  was  only  one  death  (a.d.  641). 

letter  against  which  no  sin  could 


206 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


Cod  come  to  receive  the  soul  of  the  martyred  scholar  ; ‘ for 
scholars  too,’  adds  the  old  chronicler,  ‘ are  martyrs  if  they 
live  in  purity  and  labour  with  courage.’ 1 

But  legends  of  this  kind,  though  not  without  a very 
real  beauty,  must  not  blind  us  to  the  fact  that  the  period  of 
Catholic  ascendancy  was  on  the  whole  one  of  the  most 
deplorable  in  the  history  of  the  human  mind.  The  energies 
of  Christendom  were  diverted  from  all  useful  and  progressive 
studies,  and  were  wholly  expended  on  theological  disquisi- 
tions. A crowd  of  superstitions,  attributed  to  infallible  wis- 
dom, barred  the  path  of  knowledge,  and  the  charge  of  magic, 
or  the  charge  of  heresy,  crushed  every  bold  enquiry  in  the 
sphere  of  physical  nature  or  of  opinions.  Above  all,  the 
conditions  of  true  enquiry  had  been  cursed  by  the  Church. 
A blind  unquestioning  credulity  was  inculcated  as  the  first 
of  duties,  and  the  habit  of  doubt,  the  impartiality  of  a sus- 
pended judgment,  the  desire  to  hear  both  sides  of  a disputed 
question,  and  to  emancipate  the  judgment  from  unreasoning 
prejudice,  were  all  in  consequence  condemned.  The  belief 
in  the  guilt  of  error  and  doubt  became  universal,  and  that 
belief  may  be  confidently  pronounced  to  be  the  most  perni- 
cious superstition  that  has  ever  been  accredited  among  man- 
kind. Mistaken  facts  are  rectified  by  enquiry.  Mistaken 
methods  of  research,  though  far  more  inveterate,  are  gra- 
dually altered  ; but  the  spirit  that  shrinks  from  enquiry  as 
sinful,  and  deems  a state  of  doubt  a state  of  guilt,  is  the  most 
enduring  disease  that  can  afflict  the  mind  of  man.  Not  till 
the  education  of  Europe  passed  from  the  monasteries  to  the 
universities,  not  till  Mohammedan  science,  and  classical  free- 
thought,  and  industrial  independence  broke  the  sceptre  of 
the  Church,  did  the  intellectual  revival  of  Europe  begin. 

T am  aware  that  so  strong  a statement  of  the  intellectual 
darkness  of  the  middle  ages  is  likely  to  encounter  opposition 


* Sse  Ilaurdau,  Hist  de  la  Philosophic  scolas/ique,  tome  i.  pp.  24-25, 


FROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE.  207 


from  many  quarters.  The  blindness  which  the  philosophers 
of  the  eighteenth  century  manifested  to  their  better  side  has 
produced  a reaction  which  has  led  many  to  an  opposite,  and, 
1 believe,  far  more  erroneous  extreme.  Some  have  become 
eulogists  of  the  period,  through  love  of  its  distinctive  theo- 
logical doctrines,  and  others  through  archaeological  enthusiasm, 
while  a very  pretentious  and  dogmatic,  but,  I think,  sometimes 
superficial,  school  of  writers,  who  loudly  boast  themselves  the 
regenerators  of  history,  and  treat  with  supreme  contempt 
all  the  varieties  of  theological  opinion,  are  accustomed,  partly 
through  a very  shallow  historical  optimism  which  scarcely 
admits  the  possibility  of  retrogression,  and  partly  through 
sympathy  with  the  despotic  character  of  Catholicism,  to 
extol  the  medieval  society  in  the  most  extravagant  terms. 
Without  entering  into  a lengthy  examination  of  this  sub- 
ject, I may  be  permitted  to  indicate  shortly  two  or  three 
fallacies  which  are  continually  displayed  in  their  apprecia- 
tions. 

It  is  an  undoubted  truth  that,  for  a considerable  period, 
almost  all  the  knowledge  of  Europe  was  included  in  the 
monasteries,  and  from  this  it  is  continually  inferred  that, 
had  these  institutions  not  existed,  knowledge  would  have 
been  absolutely  extinguished.  But  such  a conclusion  I con- 
ceive to  be  altogether  untrue.  Dining  the  period  of  the 
Pagan  empire,  intellectual  life  had  been  diffused  over  a vast 
portion  of  the  globe.  Egypt  and  Asia  Minor  had  become 
great  cenfres  of  civilisation.  Greece  was  still  a land  of 
learning.  Spain,  Gaul,  and  even  Britain,1  were  full  of 
libraries  and  teachers.  The  schools  of  Narbonne,  Arles, 
Bordeaux,  Toulouse,  Lyons,  Marseilles,  Poitiers,  and  Trfrves 
were  already  famous.  The  Christian  emperor  Gratian,  in 
4.  D.  376,  carried  out  in  Gaul  a system  similar  to  that  which 


1 On  the  progress  of  Eoman  civilisation  in  Britain,  see  Tacitus, 
Agricola,  xxi. 


208 


HISTOEY  OF  EUBOPEAN'  MOEALS. 


had  already,  under  the  Antonines,  been  pm-sued  in  Italy, 
ordaining  that  teachers  should  he  supported  by  the  State  in 
every  leading  city.1  To  suppose  that  Latin  literature, 
having  been  so  widely  diffused,  could  have  totally  perished, 
or  that  all  interest  in  it  could  have  permanently  ceased,  even 
under  the  extremely  unfavourable  circumstances  that  followed 
the  downfall  of  the  Roman  Empire  and  the  Mohammedan 
invasions,  is,  I conceive,  absurd.  If  Catholicism  had  never 
existed,  the  human  mind  would  have  sought  other  spheres 
for  its  development,  and  at  least  a part  of  the  treasures  of 
antiquity  would  have  been  preserved  in  other  ways.  The 
monasteries,  as  corporations  of  peaceful  men  protected  from 
the  incursions  of  the  barbarians,  became  very  naturally  the 
reservoirs  to  which  the  streams  of  literature  flowed ; but 
much  of  what  they  are  represented  as  creating,  they  had  in 
reality  only  attracted.  The  inviolable  sanctity  which  they 
secured  rendered  them  invaluable  receptacles  of  ancient 
learning  in  a period  of  anarchy  and  perpetual  war,  and  the 
industry  of  the  monks  in  transcribing,  probably  more  than 
counterbalanced  their  industry  in  effacing,  the  classical 
writings.  The  ecclesiastical  unity  of  Christendom  was  also 
of  extreme  importance  in  rendering  possible  a general  inter- 
change of  ideas.  Whether  these  services  outweighed  the 
intellectual  evils  resulting  from  the  complete  diversion  of  the 
human  mind  from  all  secular  learning,  and  from  the  per- 
sistent inculcation,  as  a matter  of  duty,  of  that  habit  of 
abject  credulity  which  it  is  the  first  task  of  the  intellectual 
reformer  to  eradicate,  may  be  reasonably  doubted. 

It  is  not  unfrequent,  again,  to  hear  the  preceding  fallacy 
stated  in  a somewhat  different  form.  We  are  reminded  that 
almost  all  the  men  of  genius  during  several  centuries  were 
great  theologians,  and  we  are  asked  to  conceive  the  more 
than  Egyptian  darkness  that  would  have  prevailed  had  the 

1 See  the  Benedictine  Hist,  litter,  de  la  France,  tome  i.  part  ii.  p.  9. 


FROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHABLEMAGNE.  209 


Catholic  theology  which  produced  them  not  existed.  This 
judgment  resembles  that  of  the  prisoner  in  a famous  passage 
of  Cicero,  who,  having  spent  his  entire  life  in  a dark  dungeon, 
and  knowing  the  light  of  day  only  from  a single  ray  which 
passed  through  a fissure  in  the  wall,  inferred  that  if  the 
wall  were  removed,  as  the  fissure  would  no  longer  exist,  all 
light  would  be  excluded.  Medieval  Catholicism  discouraged 
and  suppressed  in  every  way  secular  studies,  while  it  con- 
ferred a monopoly  of  wealth  and  honour  and  power  upon 
the  distinguished  theologian.  Very  naturally,  therefore,  it 
attracted  into  the  path  of  theology  the  genius  that  would 
have  existed  without  it,  but  would  under  other  circumstances 
have  been  displayed  in  other  forms. 

It  is  not  to  be  inferred,  however,  from  this,  that  mediaeval 
Catholicism  had  not,  in  the  sphere  of  intellect,  any  real 
creative  power.  A great  moral  or  religious  enthusiasm 
always  evokes  a certain  amount  of  genius  that  would  not 
otherwise  have  existed,  or  at  least  .been  displayed,  and  the 
monasteries  were  peculiarly  fitted  to  develop  certain  casts 
of  mind,  which  in  no  other  sphere  could  have  so  perfectly 
expanded.  The  great  writings  of  St.  Thomas  Aquinas 1 and 
his  followers,  and,  in  more  modern  times,  the  massive  and 
conscientious  erudition  of  the  Benedictines,  will  always  make 
certain  periods  of  the  monastic  history  venerable  to  the 
scholar.  But,  when  we  remember  that  during  many 
centuries  nearly  every  one  possessing  any  literary  taste  or 
talents  became  a monk,  when  we  recollect  that  these  monks 
were  familiar  with  the  language,  and  might  easily  have  been 
familiar  with  the  noble  literature,  of  ancient  Rome,  and  when 


1 A biographer  of  St.  Thomas  est  non -settlement  son  chef-d’oeuvre 
Aquinas  modestly  observes: — ntaisaussi  celui  de  1’ esprit  humain.’ 
' L’opinion  g^neralement  r^pandue  (! !) — Carle,  ILst.  de  St.-Thomai 
parmi  les  tMologiens  c'est  que  la  d'Aquin,  p.  140. 

Somme  de  Theologie  de  St.  Thomas 


210 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


we  also  consider  the  mode  of  their  life,  which  would  seem, 
from  its  freedom  from  care,  and  from  the  very  monotony  of  its 
routine,  peculiarly  calculated  to  impel  them  to  study  we 
can  hardly  fail  to  wonder  how  very  little  of  any  real  value 
they  added,  for  so  long  a period,  to  the  knowledge  of  man- 
kind. It  is  indeed  a remarkable  fact  that,  even  in  the  ages 
when  the  Catholic  ascendancy  was  most  perfect,  some  of  the 
greatest  achievements  were  either  opposed  or  simply  external 
to  ecclesiastical  influence.  Roger  Bacon,  having  been  a monk, 
is  frequently  spoken  of  as  a creature  of  Catholic  teaching. 
But  there  never  was  a more  striking  instance  of  the  force  of 
a great  genius  in  resisting  the  tendencies  of  liis  age.  At  a 
time  when  physical  science  was  continually  neglected,  dis- 
couraged, or  condemned,  at  a time  when  all  the  great  prizes 
of  the  world  were  open  to  men  who  pursued  a very  different 
course,  Bacon  applied  himself  with  transcendent  genius  to 
the  study  of  nature.  Fourteen  years  of  his  life  were  spent 
in  prison,  and  when  he  died  his  name  was  blasted  as  a 
magician.  The  mediaeval  laboratories  were  chiefly  due  to 
the  pursuit  of  alchemy,  or  to  Mohammedan  encouragement. 
The  inventions  of  the  mariner’s  compass,  of  gunpowder,  and 
of  rag  paper  were  all,  indeed,  of  extreme  importance ; but  no 
part  of  the  credit  of  them  belongs  to  the  monks.  Their 
origin  is  involved  in  much  obscurity,  but  it  is  almost  certain 
that  the  last  two,  at  all  events,  were  first  employed  in  Europe 
by  the  Mohammedans  of  Spain.  Cotton  paper  wras  in  use 
among  these  as  early  as  1009.  Among  the  Christian  nations 
it  appears  to  have  been  unknown  till  late  in  the  thirteenth 
century.  The  first  instance  of  the  employment  of  artillery 
among  Christian  nations  was  at  the  battle  of  Crecy,  but  tie 
knowledge  of  gunpowder  among  them  has  been  traced  back 
as  far  as  1338.  There  is  abundant  evidence,  however,  of  its 
employment  in  Spain  by  Mohammedans  in  several  sieges  in 
the  thirteenth  century,  and  even  in  a battle  between  the 
Moors  of  Seville  and  those  of  Tunis  at  the  end  of  the  eleventh 


FEOJI  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE.  211 


century.1  In  invention,  indeed,  as  well  as  in  original  research, 
the  mediaeval  monasteries  were  singularly  barren.  They 
cultivated  formal  logic  to  great  perfection.  They  produced 
many  patient  and  laborious,  though,  for  the  most  part, 
wholly  uncritical  scholars,  and  many  philosophers  who, 
1 laving  assumed  their  premises  with  unfaltering  faith,  reasoned 
from  them  with  admirable  subtlety;  but  they  taught  men  to 
regard  the  sacrifice  of  secular  learning  as  a noble  thing ; they 
impressed  upon  them  a theory  of  the  habitual  government 
of  the  universe,  which  is  absolutely  untrue ; and  they  diffused, 
wherever  their  influence  extended,  habits  of  credulity  and 
intolerance  that  are  the  most  deadly  poisons  to  the  human 
mind. 

It  is,  again,  very  frecprently  observed  among  the  more 
philosophic  eulogists  of  the  mediceval  period,  that  although 
the  Catholic  Church  is  a trammel  and  an  obstacle  to  the 
progress  of  civilised  nations,  although  it  would  be  scarcely 
possible  to  exaggerate  the  misery  her  persecuting  spirit  caused, 
when  the  human  mind  had  outstripped  Lei'  teaching;  yet 
there  was  a time  when  she  was  greatly  in  advance  of  the 
age,  and  the  complete  and  absolute  ascendancy  she  then 
exercised  was  intellectually  eminently  beneficial.  That  there 
is  much  truth  in  this  view,  I have  myself  repeatedly  main- 
tained. But  when  men  proceed  to  isolate  the  former  period, 
and  to  make  it  the  theme  of  unqualified  eulogy,  they  fall,  I 
think,  into  a grave  error.  The  evils  that  sprang  from  the 
later  period  of  Catholic  ascendancy  were  not  an  accident  or 
a perversion,  but  a normal  and  necessary  consequence  of  the 
previous  despotism.  The  principles  which  were  imposed 
cn  the  mediaeval  world,  and  which  were  the  conditions  of  so 


1 See  Viardot,  Hist,  des  Arabes  known  in  China — was  first  intro- 
*n  Espagne,\\.  142-166.  Prescott's  duced  into  Europe  by  the  Moham- 
Ferdinand  and  Isabella,  eh.  viii.  medans ; but  the  evidence  of  this 
Viardot  contends  that  the  compass  appears  inconclusive. 

— which  appears  to  have  been  long 


212 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


much  of  its  distinctive  excellence,  were  of  such  a nature  that 
they  claimed  to  be  final,  and  could  not  possibly  be  discarded 
without  a struggle  and  a convulsion.  We  must  estimate 
the  influence  of  these  principles  considered  as  a -whole,  and 
during  the  entire  period  of  their  operation.  There  are  some 
poisons  which,  before  they  kill  men,  allay  pain  and  diffuse 
a soothing  sensation  through  the  frame.  We  may  recognise 
the  hour  of  enjoyment  they  procure,  but  we  must  not  separate 
it  from  the  price  at  which  it  is  purchased. 

The  extremely  unfavourable  influence  the  Catholic 
Church  long  exercised  upon  intellectual  development  had 
important  moral  consequences.  Although  moral  progress 
does  not  necessarily  depend  upon  intellectual  progress  it  is 
materially  affected  by  it,  Intellectual  activity  being  the  most 
important  element  in  the  growth  of  that  great  and  com- 
plex organism  which  we  call  civilisation.  The  medieval 
credulity  had  also  a more  direct  moral  influence  in  pro- 
ducing that  indifference  to  truth,  which  is  the  most  repul- 
sive feature  of  so  many  Catholic  writings.  The  very  large 
part  that  must  be  assigned  to  deliberate  forgeries  in  the  early 
apologetic  literature  of  the  Church  we  have  already  seen ; and 
no  impartial  reader  can,  I think,  investigate  the  innumerable 
grotesque  and  lying  legends  that,  during  the  whole  course  of 
the  Middle  Ages,  were  deliberately  palmed  upon  mankind  as 
undoubted  facts,  can  follow  the  histories  of  the  false  decretals, 
and  the  discussions  that  were  comiected  with  them,  or  can 
observe  the  complete  and  absolute  incapacity  most  Catholic 
historians  have  displayed,  of  conceiving  any  good  thing  in  the 
ranks  of  their  opponents,  or  of  stating  with  common  fairness 
any  consideration  that  can  tell  against  their  cause,  without 
acknowledging  how  serious  and  how  inveterate  has  been  tke 
evil.  There  have,  no  doubt,  been  many  noble  individual  ex- 
ceptions. Yet  it  is,  I believe,  difficult  to  exaggerate  the 
extent  to  which  this  moral  defect  exists  in  most  of  the  ancient 
and  very  much  of  the  modern  literature  of  Catholicism.  It 


FROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE.  213 


is  tliis  which  makes  it  so  unspeakably  repulsive  to  all  inde- 
pendent and  impartial  thinkers,  and  has  led  a great  German 
liistorian 1 to  declare,  vith  much  bitterness,  that  the  phrase 
Christian  veracity  deserves  to  rank  with  the  phrase  Punic 
faith.  But  this  absolute  indifference  to  truth  whenever 
falsehood  could  subserve  the  interests  of  the  Church  is  per- 
fectly explicable,  and  was  found  in  multitudes  who,  in  other 
respects,  exhibited  the  noblest  virtue.  An  age  which  has 
ceased  to  value  impartiality  of  judgment  will  soon  cease  to 
value  accuracy  of  statement ; and  when  credulity  is  inculcated 
as  a virtue,  falsehood  will  not  long  be  stigmatised  as  a vice. 
When,  too,  men  are  firmly  convinced  that  salvation  can  only 
be  found  within  their  Church,  and  that  their  Church  can  ab- 
solve from  all  guilt,  they  will  speedily  conclude  that  nothing 
can  possibly  be  wrong  which  is  beneficial  to  it.  They  ex- 
change the  love  of  truth  for  what  they  call  the  love  of  the 
truth.  They  regard  morals  as  derived  from  and  subordinate 
to  theology,  and  they  regulate  all  their  statements,  not  by  the 
standard  of  veracity,  but  by  the  interests  of  their  creed. 

Another  important  moral  consequence  of  the  monastic 
system  was  the  great  prominence  given  to  pecuniary  com- 
pensations for  crime.  It  had  been  at  first  one  of  the  broad 
distinctions  between  Paganism  and  Christianity,  that,  while 
the  rites  of  the  former  were  for  the  most  part  unconnected 
with  moral  dispositions,  Christianity  made  purity  of  heart  an 
essential  element  of  all  its  worship.  Among  the  Pagans  a 
few  faint  efforts  had,  it  is  true,  been  made  in  this  direction. 
An  old  precept  or  law,  which  is  referred  to  by  Cicero,  and 
which  was  strongly  reiterated  by  Apollonius  of  Tyana,  and 
the  Pythagoreans,  declared  that  ‘ no  impious  man  should 
dare  to  appease  the  anger  of  the  divinities  by  gifts  ; ’ 2 and 
oracles  are  said  to  have  more  than  once  proclaimed  that  the 

1 Herder.  Leg.  ii.  9.  See,  too,  Philost, 

2 ‘Impius  no  audeto  placare  Apoll.  Tyan.  i.  11. 
donis  tram  Deorum.’ — Cicero,  Be 


46 


211 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


hecatombs  of  noble  oxen  with  gilded  horns  that  were  offered 
up  ostentatiously  by  the  rich,  were  less  pleasing  to  the  gods 
than  the  wreaths  of  flowers  and  the  modest  and  reverential 
worship  of  the  poor.1  In  general,  however,  in  the  Pagan 
world,  the  service  of  the  temple  had  little  or  no  connection 
with  morals,  and  the  change  which  Christianity  effected  tn 
iliis  respect  was  one  of  its  most  important  benefits  to  man- 
kind. It  was  natural,  however,  and  perhaps  inevitable,  that 
in  the  course  of  time,  and  under  the  action  of  very  various 
causes,  the  old  Pagan  sentiment  should  revive,  and  even  with 
an  increased  intensity.  In  no  respect  had  the  Christians 
been  more  nobly  distinguished  than  by  their  charity.  It  was 
not  surprising  that  the  Fathers,  while  exerting  all  their  elo- 
quence to  stimulate  this  virtue — especially  during  the  cala- 
mities that  accompanied  the  dissolution  of  the  Empire — should 
have  dilated  in  extremely  strong  terms  upon  the  spiritual 
benefits  the  donor  would  receive  for  his  gift.  It  is  also  not 
surprising  that  this  selfish  calculation  should  gradually,  and 
among  hard  and  ignorant  men,  have  absorbed  all  other  mo- 
tives. A curious  legend,  which  is  related  by  a writer  of  the 
seventh  century,  illustrates  the  kind  of  feeling  that  had  arisen. 
The  Christian  bishop  Synesius  succeeded  in  converting  a 
Pagan  named  Evagrius,  who  for  a long  time,  however,  felt 
doubts  about  the  passage,  ‘ He  who  giveth  to  the  poor 
lendeth  to  the  Lord.’  On  his  conversion,  and  in  obedience 
to  this  verse,  he  gave  Synesius  three  hundred  pieces  of  gold 
to  be  distributed  among  the  poor ; but  he  exacted  from  the 
bishop,  as  the  representative  of  Christ,  a promissory  note, 
engaging  that  he  should  be  repaid  in  the  future  world. 
Many  yeai’s  later,  Evagrius,  being  on  his  death-bed,  com- 
manded his  sons,  when  they  buried  him,  to  place  the  note  in 
his  hand,  and  to  do  so  without  informing  Synesius.  Hia 


1 There  are  three  or  tour  instances  of  this  related  by  Porphyry 
Dc  Ahstin.  Carnis,  lib.  ii. 


FROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE.  215 


dying  injunction  was  observed,  and  three  days  afterwards  he 
appeared  to  Synesius  in  a dream,  told  him  that  the  debt  had 
been  paid,  and  ordered  him  to  go  to  the  tomb,  where  he  would 
find  a written  receipt.  Synesius  did. as  he  was  commanded, 
and,  the  grave  being  opened,  the  promissory  note  was  found 
in  the  hand  of  the  dead  man,  with  an  endorsement  declaring 
that  the  debt  had  been  paid  by  Christ.  The  note,  it  was  said, 
was  long  after  preserved  as  a relic  in  the  church  of  Gyrene.1 

The  kind  of  feeling  which  this  legend  displays  was  soon 
tinned  with  tenfold  force  into  the  channel  of  monastic  life. 
A law  of  Constantine  accorded,  and  several  later  laws  en- 
larged, the  power  of  bequests  to  ecclesiastics.  Ecclesiastical 
property  was  at  the  same  time  exonerated  from  the  public 
burdens,  and  this  measure  not  only  directly  assisted  its  in- 
crease, but  had  also  an  important  indirect  influence ; for,  when 
taxation  was  heavy,  many  laymen  ceded  the  ownership  of 
their  estates  to  the  monasteries,  with  a secret  condition  that 
they  should,  as  vassals,  receive  the  revenues  unburdened  by 
taxation,  and  subject  only  to  a slight  payment  to  the  monks 
as  to  their  feudal  lords.2  The  monks  were  regarded  as  the 
trustees  of  the  poor,  and  also  as  themselves  typical  poor,  and 
all  the  promises  that  applied  to  those  who  gave  to  the  poor 
applied,  it  was  said,  to  the  benefactors  of  the  monasteries. 
The  monastic  chapel  also  contained  the  relics  of  saints  or 
sacred  images  of  miraculous  power,  and  throngs  of  worship- 


1 Moschus,  Pratum  Spirituale 
(Rosweyde),  cap.  cxcv.  M.  Wallon 
quotes  from  the  Life  of  St.-Jean 
VAumonier  an  even  stranger  event 
which  happened  to  St.  Peter  Telo- 
nearius.  ‘Pour  repousser  les  im- 
portunity des  pauvres,  il  leur  jetait 
des  pierres.  Un  jour,  n'en  trou- 
vant  pas  sous  la  main,  il  leur  jeta 
un  pain  a la  tete.  Il  tomba  malade 
et  eut  une  vision.  Ses  m6rites 
itaient  comptes : d’un  cotk  etaient 

tous  ses  crimes,  de  l'autre  ce  pain 


jete  comme  une  insulte  aux  pauvres 
et  accepts  comme  une  aumone  par 
Jesus  Christ.’ — Hist,  de  I'Esclavage, 
tome  iii.  p.  397. 

1 may  mention  here  that  the 
ancient  Gauls  were  said  to  have 
been  accustomed  to  lend  money  on 
the  condition  of  its  being  repaid  to 
the  lender  in  the  next  life. — (Val. 
Maximus,  lib.  ii.  cap.  vi.  § 10.) 

2 Muratori,  Antich.  ItaliaKt , 
diss.  lxvii. 


216 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


pers  were  attracted  by  the  miracles,  and  desired  to  place  them- 
selves under  the  protection,  of  the  saint.  It  is  no  exaggera- 
tion to  say  that  to  give  money  to  the  priests  was  for  several 
centuries  the  first  article  of  the  moral  code.  Political  minds 
may  have  felt  the  importance  of  aggrandising  a pacific  and 
industrious  class  in  the  centre  of  a disorganised  society,  and 
family  affection  may  have  predisposed  many  in  favour  of  in- 
stitutions which  contained  at  least  one  member  of  most 
families ; but  in  the  overwhelming  majority  of  cases  the  mo- 
tive was  simple  superstition.  In  seasons  of  sickness,  of 
danger,  of  sorrow,  or  of  remorse,  whenever  the  fear  or  the 
conscience  of  the  worshipper  was  awakened,  he  hastened  to 
purchase  with  money  the  favour  of  a saint.  Above  all,  in 
the  hour  of  death,  when  the  terrors  of  the  future  world 
loomed  darkly  upon  his  mind,  he  saw  in  a gift  or  legacy  to 
the  monks  a sure  means  of  effacing  the  most  monstrous 
crimes,  and  securing  his  ultimate  happiness.  A rich  man 
was  soon  scarcely  deemed  a Christian  if  he  did  not  leave  a 
portion  of  his  property  to  the  Church,  and  the  charters  of  in- 
numerable monasteries  in  every  part  of  Europe  attest  the 
vast  tracts  of  land  that  were  ceded  by  will  to  the  monks,  ‘for 
the  benefit  of  the  soul  ’ of  the  testator. 1 

It  has  been  observed  by  a great  historian  that  we  may 
trace  three  distinct  phases  in  the  early  history  of  the  Church. 
In  the  first  period  religion  was  a question  of  morals  ; in  the 
second  period,  which  culminated  in  the  fifth  century,  it  had 
become  a question  of  orthodoxy ; in  the  third  period,  which 
dates  from  the  seventh  century,  it  was  a question  of  muni- 
ficence to  monasteries.2  The  despotism  of  Catholicism,  and 

1 See,  on  the  causes  of  the  wealth  tielloment  consiste  dans  l’enseigne- 

of  the  monasteries,  two  admirable  ment  moral ; elle  avoit  exerce  Ion 
dissertations  by  Muratori,  Antich.  cceurs  et  les  ames  par  la  recherche 
Italiane,  lxvii.,  lxviii. ; Hallam’s  de  ce  qui  etoit  vraiment  beau,  vrai- 
Micldle  Ages , ch.  vii.  part  i.  menthonnete.  Aucinquiime  si&cle 

2 ‘ Lors  de  l’^tablissement  du  on  l’avoit  surtout  attacMe  a l’or 
christianismelareligionavoitessen-  thodoxio,  au  septieme  onl’aToit  rib 


FROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE.  217 


the  ignorance  that  followed  the  barbarian  invasions,  had  re- 
pressed the  struggles  of  heresy,  and  in  the  period  of  almost 
absolute  darkness  that  continued  from  the  sixth  to  the 
twelfth  century,  the  theological  ideal  of  unquestioning  faith 
and  of  perfect  unanimity  was  all  but  realised  in  the  West, 
All  the  energy  that  in  previous  ages  had  been  expended  in 
combating  heresy  was  now  expended  in  acquiring  wealth. 
The  people  compounded  for  the  most  atrocious  crimes  by  gifts 
to  shrines  of  those  saints  whose  intercession  was  supposed  to 
be  unfailing.  The  monks,  partly  by  the  natural  cessation  of 
their  old  enthusiasm,  partly  by  the  absence  of  any  hostile 
criticism  of  their  acts,  and  partly  too  by  the  very  wealth 
they  had  acquired,  sank  into  gross  and  general  immorality. 
The  great  majority  of  them  had  probably  at  no  time  been 
either  saints  actuated  by  a strong  religious  motive,  nor  yet 
diseased  and  desponding  minds  seeking  a refuge  from  tho 
world ; they  had  been  simply  peasants,  of  no  extraordinary 
devotion  or  sensitiveness,  who  preferred  an  ensured  subsist- 
ence, with  no  care,  little  labour,  a much  higher  social  position 
than  they  could  otherwise  acquire,  and  the  certainty,  as  they 
believed,  of  going  to  heaven,  to  the  laborious  and  precarious 
existence  of  the  serf,  relieved,  indeed,  by  the  privilege  of 
marriage,  but  exposed  to  military  service,  to  extreme  hard- 
ships, and  to  constant  oppression.  Very  naturally,  when 
they  could  do  so  with  impunity,  they  broke  their  vows  of 
chastity.  Very  naturally,  too,  they  availed  themselves  to  the 
full  of  the  conch tion  of  affairs,  to  draw  as  much  wealth  a3 
possible  into  their  community.1  The  belief  in  the  approaching 

duke  a la  bienfaisance  envers  les  norance.  In  most  cases  they  were 
couvens.’  — Sismondi,  Hist,  des  the  work  of  deliberate  imposture. 
Francois,  tome  ii.  p.  50.  Every  cathedral  or  monastery  had 

1 Mr.  Hallam,  speaking  of  the  its  tutelar  saint,  and  every  saint 
legends  of  the  miracles  of  saints,  his  legend,  fabricated  in  order  to 
says:  ‘It  must  not  be  supposed  enrich  the  churches  under  his  pro- 
that  these  absurdities  were  pro-  tection,  by  exaggerating  his  virtues, 
iuced  as  well  as  nourished  by  ig-  liis  miracles,  and  consequently  his 


218 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


end  of  the  world,  especially  at  the  close  of  the  tenth  century, 
the  crusades,  which  gave  rise  to  a profitable  traffic  in  the 
form  of  a pecuniary  commutation  of  vows,  and  the  black 
death,  which  produced  a paroxysm  of  religious  fanaticism, 
stimulated  the  movement.  In  the  monkish  chronicles,  the 
merits  of  sovereigns  are  almost  exclusively  judged  by  their 
bounty  to  the  Church,  and  in  some  cases  this  is  the  sole  part 
of  their  policy  which  has  been  preserved. 1 

There  were,  no  doubt,  a few  redeeming  points  in  this  dark 
period.  The  Irish  monks  are  said  to  have  been  honourably 
distinguished  for  their  reluctance  to  accept  the  lavish  dona- 
tions of  their  admirers,2  and  some  missionary  monasteries  of 
a high  order  of  excellence  were  scattered  through  Europe. 
A few  legends,  too,  may  be  cited  censuring  the  facility  with 
which  money  acquired  by  crime  was  accepted  as  an  atonement 
for  crime.3  But  these  cases  were  very  rare,  and  the  religious 
history  of  several  centuries  is  little  more  than  a history  of 
the  rapacity  of  priests  and  of  the  credulity  of  laymen.  In 


power  of  serving  those  who  paid 
liberally  for  his  patronage.’ — Mid- 
dle Ages,  ch.  ix.  part  i.  I do  not 
think  this  passage  makes  sufficient 
allowance  for  the  unconscious  form- 
ation of  many  saintly  myths,  but 
no  impartial  person  can  doubt  its 
substantial  truth. 

1 Sismondi,  Hist,  des  Frangais, 
tome  ii.  pp.  54,  62-63. 

2 Milman’s  Hist,  of  Latin  Chris- 
tianity, vol.  ii.  p.  257. 

3 Tlurandus,  a French  bishop  of 
the  thirteenth  century,  tells  how, 

‘ when  a certain  bishop  was  conse- 
crating a church  built  out  of  the 
fruits  of  usury  and  pillage,  he  saw 
behind  the  altar  the  devil  in  a pon- 
tifical vestment,  standing  at  the 
bishop’s  throne,  who  said  unto  the 
bishop,  “ Cease  from  consecrating 
the  church;  for  it  pertainelh  to 


my  jurisdiction,  since  it  is  built 
from  the  fruits  of  usuries  and  rob- 
beries.” Then  the  bishop  and  the 
clergy  having  fled  thence  in  fear, 
immediately  the  devil  destroyed 
that  church  with  a great  noise.’ — ■ 
Rationale  Divinorum,  i.  6 (trans- 
lated for  the  Camden  Society). 

A certain  St.  Launomar  is  said 
to  have  refused  a gift  for  his  mo- 
nastery from  a rapacious  noble, 
because  he  was  sure  it  was  de- 
rived from  pillage.  (Montalem- 
bert’s  Moines  d'  Occident,  tome  ii. 
pp.  350-351.)  When  prostitutes 
were  converted  in  the  early  Church, 
it  was  the  rulo  that  the  money  of 
which  they  had  become  possessed 
should  never  be  applied  to  eccle- 
siastical purposes,  but  should  bs 
distributed  among  the  poor. 


FROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE. 


219 


England,  the  perpetual  demands  of  the  Pope  excited  a fierce 
resentment ; and  we  may  trace  with  remarkable  clearness, 
in  every  page  of  Matthew  Paris,  the  alienation  of  sympathy 
arising  from  this  cause,  which  prepared  and  foreshadowed 
the  final  rupture  of  England  from  the  Church.  Ireland,  on 
the  other  hand,  had  been  given  over  by  two  Popes  to  the 
English  invader,  on  the  condition  of  the  payment  of  Peter’s 
pence.  The  outrageous  and  notorious  immorality  of  the 
monasteries,  dining  the  century  before  the  Reformation,  was 
chiefly  due  to  their  great  wealth ; and  that  immorality,  as 
the  writings  of  Erasmus  and  TTlric  von  Ilutten  show,  gave  a 
powerful  impulse  to  the  new  movement,  while  the  abuses  of 
the  indulgences  were  the  immediate  cause  of  the  revolt  of 
Luther.  But  these  things  arrived  only  after  many  centuries 
of  successful  fraud.  The  religious  terrorism  that  was  unscru- 
pulously employed  had  done  its  work,  and  the  chief  riches  of 
Christendom  had  passed  into  the  coffers  of  the  Church. 

It  is,  indeed,  probable  that  religious  terrorism  played  a 
more  important  part  in  the  monastic  phase  of  Christianity 
than  it  had  done  even  in  the  great  work  of  the  conversion 
of  the  Pagans.  Although  two  or  three  amiable  theologians 
had  made  faint  and  altogether  abortive  attempts  to  question 
the  eternity  of  punishment ; although  there  had  been  some 
slight  difference  of  opinion  concerning  the  future  of  some 
Pagan  philosophers  who  had  lived  before  the  introduction  of 
Christianity,  and  also  upon  the  question  whether  infants  who 
died  unbaptised  were  only  deprived  of  all  joy,  or  were  ac- 
tually subjected  to  never-ending  agony,  there  was  no  question 
as  to  the  main  features  of  the  Catholic  doctrine.  According 
to  the  patristic  theologians,  it  was  part  of  the  gospel  reve- 
lation that  the  misery  and  suffering  the  human  race  en- 
dures upon  earth  is  but  a feeble  image  of  that  which  awaits 
it  in  the  future  w'orld ; that  all  its  members  beyond  the 
Church,  as  well  as  a very  large  proportion  of  those  who  are 
within  its  pale,  are  doomed  to  an  eternity  of  agony  in  a 


220 


HISTORY  OF  EUROFEAN  MORALS. 


literal  and  undying  fire.  The  monastic  legends  took  up  this 
doctrine,  which  in  itself  is  sufficiently  revolting,  and  they 
developed  it  with  an  appalling  vividness  and  minuteness. 
St.  Macarius,  it  is  said,  when  walking  one  day  through  the 
desert,  saw  a skull  upon  the  ground.  He  struck  it  with  his 
staff  and  it  began  to  speak.  It  told  him  that  it  was  the 
skull  of  a Pagan  priest  who  had  lived  before  the  introduction 
of  Christianity  into  the  world,  and  who  had  accordingly  been 
doomed  to  hell.  As  high  as  the  heaven  is  above  the  earth, 
so  high  does  the  lire  of  hell  mount  in  waves  above  the  souls 
that  are  plunged  into  it.  The  damned  souls  were  pressed 
together  back  to  back,  and  the  lost  priest  made  it  his  single 
entreaty  to  the  saint  that  he  would  pray  that  they  might 
be  turned  face  to  face,  for  he  believed  that  the  sight  of  a 
brother’s  face  might  afford  him  some  faint  consolation  in  the 
eternity  of  agony  that  was  before  him.1  The  story  is  well 
known  of  how  St.  Gregory,  seeing  on  a bas-relief  a represen- 
tation of  the  goodness  of  Trajan  to  a poor  widow,  pitied  the 
Pagan  emperor,  whom  he  knew  to  be  in  hell,  and  prayed 
that  he  might  be  x-eloased.  He  was  told  that  his  prayer  was 
altogether  unprecedented ; but  at  last,  on  his  promising  that 
he  would  never  offer  such  a prayer  again,  it  was  partially 
granted.  Trajan  was  not  withdrawn  from  hell,  but  he  was 
freed  from  the  torments  which  the  remainder  of  the  Pagan 
world  endured.2 

An  entire  literature  of  visions  depicting  the  torments  of 

1 Verba  Scniorum,  Prol.  § 172-  great  virtues,  was  an  unbaptised 

2 This  vision  is  not  related  by  infidel.’  The  whole  subject  of  the 
St.  Gregory  himself,  and  some  vision  of  St.  Gregory  is  discussed 
Catholics  are  perplexed  about  it,  on  by  Champagny,  Les  Antonins,  tome 
account  of  the  vision  of  another  i.  pp.  372-373.  This  devout  writer 
saint,  who  afterwards  asked  whether  says,  ‘Cette  legende  fut.  acceptee 
Trajan  was  saved,  and  received  par  tout  le  moyen-ige,  indulgent 
for  answer,  ‘I  wish  men  to  rest  in  pour  les  paiiens  illustres  et  tout  dis- 
ignorance  of  this  subject,  that  the  pos6  ;i  les  supposer  chretiens  et 
Catholics  may  become  stronger,  sauves.’ 

For  this  emperor,  though  he  had 


FROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE. 


221 


hell  was  soon  produced  by  the  industry  of  the  monks.  The 
apocryphal  Gospel  of  Nicodemus,  which  purported  to  describe 
the  descent  of  Christ  into  the  lower  world,  contributed  to 
foster  it ; and  St.  Gregory  the  Great  has  related  many  visions 
in  a more  famous  work,  which  professed  to  be  compiled  with 
scrupulous  veracity  from  the  most  authentic  sources,1  and  of 
which  it  may  be  confidently  averred  that  it  scarcely  contains 
a single  page  which  is  not  tainted  with  grotesque  and  de- 
liberate falsehood.  Men,  it  was  said,  passed  into  a trance  or 
temporary  death,  and  were  then  carried  for  a time  to  hell. 
Among  others,  a certain  man  named  Stephen,  from  whose 
lips  the  saint  declares  that  he  had  heard  the  tale,  had  died 
by  mistake.  When  his  soul  was  borne  to  the  gates  of  hell, 
the  Judge  declared  that  it  was  another  Stephen  who  was 
wanted ; the  disembodied  spirit,  after  inspecting  hell,  was 
restored  to  its  former  body,  and  the  next  day  it  was  known 
that  another  Stephen  had  died.2  Volcanoes  were  the  portals 
of  hell,  and  a hermit  had  seen  the  soul  of  the  Avian  emperor 
Theodoric,  as  St.  Euckerius  afterwards  did  the  soul  of 
Charles  Martel,  carried  down  that  in  the  Island  of  Lipari.3 
The  craters  in  Sicily,  it  was  remarked,  were  continually 
agitated,  and  continually  increasing,  and  this,  as  St.  Gregory 
observes,  was  probably  due  to  the  impending  ruin  of  the 
world,  when  the  great  press  of  lost  souls  would  render  it 
necessary  to  enlarge  the  approaches  to  their  prisons.4 * 

But  the  glimpses  of  hell  that  are  furnished  in  the  ‘ Dia- 
logues ’ of  St.  Gregory  appear  meagre  and  unimaginative, 
compared  with  those  of  some  later  monks.  A long  series 
of  monastic  visions,  of  which  that  of  St.  Fursey,  in  the 
seventh  century,  was  one  of  the  first,  and  which  followed 


1 See  the  solemn  asseveration  of  Book  of  Dialogues. 

the  care  which  he  took  in  goiDg  2 Dial.  iv.  36. 

only  to  the  most  credible  and  8 Ibid.  iv.  30. 

authorised  sources  for  his  mate-  4 Ibid.  iv.  35. 

rials,  in  the  Preface  to  the  First 


222 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


in  rapid  succession,  till  that  of  Tundale,  in  the  twelfth 
century,  professed  to  describe  with  the  most  detailed  accuracy 
the  condition  of  the  lost.1  It  is  impossible  to  conceive  more 
ghastly,  grotesque,  and  material  conceptions  of  the  future 
world  than  they  evince,  or  more  hideous  calumnies  against 
that  Being  who  was  supposed  to  inflict  upon  His  creatures 
such  unspeakable  misery.  The  devil  was  represented  bound 
by  red-hot  chains,  on  a burning  gridiron  in  the  centre  of 
hell.  The  screams  of  his  never-ending  agony  made  its  rafters 
to  resound ; but  his  hands  were  free,  and  with  these  he 
seized  the  lost  souls,  crushed  them  like  grapes  against  his 
teeth,  and  then  drew  them  by  his  breath  down  the  fiery 
cavern  of  his  throat.  Daemons  with  hooks  of  red-hot 
iron  plunged  souls  alternately  into  fire  and  ice.  Some  of 
the  lost  were  hung  up  by  their  tongues,  others  were  sawn 
asunder,  others  gnawed  by  serpents,  others  beaten  together  on 
an  anvil  and  welded  into  a single  mass,  others  boiled  and 
then  strained  through  a cloth,  others  twined  in  the  embraces 
of  daemons  whose  limbs  were  of  flame.  The  fire  of  earth, 
it  was  said,  was  but  a picture  of  that  of  hell.  The  latter  was 
so  immeasurably  more  intense  that  it  alone  could  be  called 
real.  Sulphur  was  mixed  with  it,  partly  to  increase  its 
heat,  and  partly,  too,  in  order  that  an  insufferable  stench 
might  be  added  to  the  misery  of  the  lost,  while,  unlike 
other  flames,  it  emitted,  according  to  some  visions,  no  light, 


' The  fullest  collection  of  these 
visions  with  which  I am  acquainted 
is  that  made  for  the  Philobiblion 
Society  (vol.  ix.),  by  M.  Delepierre, 
called  L’Enfer  deceit  par  ceux  qui 
I'ont  vu,  of  which  I have  largely 
availed  myself.  See,  too,  Rusca  I)e 
Inferno  Wright’s  Purgatory  of  St. 
Patrick , and  an  interesting  collection 
of  visions  given  by  Mr.  Longfellow, 
in  his  translation  of  Dante.  The  Irish 
saints  were,  I am  sorry  to  say,  pro- 


minent in  producing  this  branch  of 
literature.  St.  Fursey,  whose  vision 
is  one  of  the  earliest,  and  Tondale, 
or  Tundale,  whose  vision  is  one  of 
the  most  detailed,  were  both  Irish. 
The  English  historians  contain 
several  of  these  visions.  Bede  re- 
lates two  or  three  — William  of 
Malmesbury  that  of  Charles  the 
Fat ; Matthew  Paris  tliree  visions 
of  purgatory. 


FBOM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHAELEMAGNE. 


223 


that  the  horror  of  darkness  might  be  added  to  the  horror  of 
pain.  A narrow  bridge  spanned  the  abyss,  and  from  it  the 
souls  of  sinners  were  plunged  into  the  darkness  that  wm 
below.1 

Such  catalogues  of  horrors,  though  they  now  awake  in  an 
educated  man  a sentiment  of  mingled  disgust,  weariness,  and 
contempt,  were  able  for  many  centuries  to  create  a degree  of 
panic  and  of  misery  we  can  scarcely  realise.  With  the 
exception  of  the  heretic  Pelagius,  whose  noble  genius,  antici- 
pating the  discoveries  of  modern  science,  had  repudiated  the 
theological  notion  of  death  having  been  introduced  into  the 
world  on  account  of  the  act  of  Adam,  it  was  universally 
held  among  Christians  that  all  the  forms  of  suffering 
and  dissolution  that  are  manifested  on  earth  were  penal 
inflictions.  The  destruction  of  the  world  was  generally  be- 
lieved to  be  at  hand.  The  minds  of  men  were  filled  with 
images  of  the  approaching  catastrophe,  and  innumerable 
legends  of  visible  daemons  were  industriously  circulated.  It 
was  the  custom  then,  as  it  is  the  custom  now,  for  Catholic 
priests  to  stain  the  imaginations  of  young  children  by  ghastly 
pictures  of  future  misery,  to  imprint  upon  the  virgin  mind 
atrocious  images  which  they  hoped,  not  unreasonably,  might 
prove  indelible.2  In  hours  of  weakness  and  of  sickness  their 


1 The  narrow  bridge  over  hell 
(in  some  visions  covered  with 
spikes),  which  is  a conspicuous 
feature  in  the  Mohammedan  pic- 
tures of  the  future  world,  appears 
very  often  in  Catholic  visions.  See 
Greg.  Tur.  iv.  33  ; St.  Greg.  Dial. 
iv.  36  ; and  the  vision  of  Tundale, 
in  Delepierre. 

2 Few  Englishmen,  I imagine, 
ire  aware  of  the  infamous  publica- 
tions written  with  this  object,  that 
are  circulated  by  the  Catholic 
priests  among  the  poor.  I have 
before  mo  a tract ‘fur  children  and 


young  persons,’  called  Th"  Sight  of 
Hell,  by  theEev.J.  Furniss.C.S.S.R., 
published  ‘permissu  superiorum,’ 
by  Duffy  (Dublin  and  London). 
It  is  a detailed  description  of  the 
dungeons  of  hell,  and  a few  sen- 
tences may  serve  as  a sample.  ‘See! 
on  the  middle  of  that  red-hot  floor 
stands  a girl;  she  looks  about  six- 
teen years  old.  Her  feet  are  bare. 
Site  has  neither  shoes  nor  stockings. 

. . . Listen ! she  speaks.  She 
says,  I have  been  standing  on  this 
red-hot  floor  for  years.  Day  and 
night  my  only  standing-place  has 


224 


HISTORY  OR  EU  KOREAN  MORALS. 


overwrought  fancy  seemed  to  see  hideous  beings  hovering 
around,  and  hell  itself  yawning  to  receive  its  victim.  St. 
Gregory  describes  how  a monk,  who,  though  apparently  a 
man  of  exemplary  and  even  saintly  piety,  had  been  accus- 
tomed secretly  to  eat  meat,  saw  on  his  deathbed  a fearful 
dragon  twining  its  tail  round  his  body,  and,  with  open  jaws, 
sucking  his  breath ; 1 and  how  a little  boy  of  five  years  old, 
who  had  learnt  from  his  father  to  repeat  blasphemous  words, 
saw,  as  he  lay  dying,  exulting  daemons  who  were  waiting  to 
carry  him  to  hell.2  To  the  jaundiced  eye  of  the  theologian, 
all  nature  seemed  stricken  and  forlorn,  and  its  brightness  and 
beauty  suggested  no  ideas  but  those  of  deception  and  of  sin. 
The  redbreast,  according  to  one  popular  legend,  was  commis- 
sioned by  the  Deity  to  carry  a drop  of  water  to  the  souls  of 
unbaptised  infants  in  hell,  and  its  breast  was  singed  in 
piercing  the  liames.3  In  the  calm,  still  hour  of  evening, 


beon  this  red-hot  floor.  . . . Look 
at  my  burnt  and  bleeding  feet.  Let 
me  go  off' this  burning  floor  for  one 
moment,  only  for  one  single  short 
moment  . . . The  fourth  dungeon 
is  the  boiling  kettle  ...  in  the 
middle  of  it  there  is  a boy.  . . 
His  eyes  are  burning  like  two  burn- 
ing coals.  Two  long  flames  come 
out  of  his  ears.  . . . Sometimes 
lie  opens  his  mouth,  and  blazing 
tiro  rolls  out.  But  listen  ! there  is 
a sound  like  a kettle  boiling.  . . . 
The  blood  is  boiling  in  the  scalded 
veins  of  that  boy.  The  brain  is 
boiling  and  bubbling  in  his  head. 
The  marrow  is  boiling  iu  his  bones. 

. . . The  filth  dunge  m is  the  red- 
hof  oven.  . . . The  little  child  is 
in  this  red  hot  oven.  Hear  how 
it  screams  to  come  out.  See  how 
it  turns  and  twists  itself  about  in 
the  fire.  It  beats  its  head  against 
the  roof  of  the  oven.  It  st  amps  its 
litde  feet  on  the  floor.  . . . God 


was  very  good  to  this  child.  Very 
likely  God  saw  it  would  get  worse 
and  worse,  and  would  never  repent, 
and  so  it  would  have  to  be  punished 
much  more  in  hell.  So  God  in  His 
mercy  called  it  out  of  the  world  in 
its  early  childhood.’  If  the  reader 
desires  to  follow  this  subject  fur- 
ther, he  may  glance  over  a com- 
panion tract  by  the  same  reverend 
gentleman,  called  A Terrible  Judg- 
ment on  a Little  Child ; and  also  a 
book  on  Hell,  translated  from  the 
Italian  of  Pinamonti,  and  with 
illustrations  depicting  the  various 
tortures. 

1 St.  Greg.  Dial.  iv.  38. 

2 Ibid.  iv.  18. 

3 Alger’s  history  of  the  Doe- 
trine  of  a Future  Life  (New  York, 
1866),  p.  414.  The  ignis  fatuus  wa» 
sometimes  supposed  to  be  the  soul 
of  an  unbaptised  child.  There  is,  I 
believe,  another  Catholic  legend 
about  the  redbreast,  of  a very 


FROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE. 


225 


tvhen  the  peasant  boy  asked  why  the  sinking  snn,  as  it  dipped 
beneath  the  horizon,  flushed  with  such  a glorious  red,  he  was 
answered,  in  the  words  of  an  old  Saxon  catechism,  because  it 
is  then  looking  into  hell.1 

It  is  related  in  the  vision  of  Tundale,  that  as  he  gazed 
spon  the  burning  plains  of  hell,  and  listened  to  the  screams 
of  ceaseless  and  hopeless  agony  that  were  wrung  from  the 
sufferers,  the  cry  broke  from  his  lips,  ‘ Alas,  Lord  ! what 
truth  is  there  in  what  I have  so  often  heard — the  earth  is 
filled  witli  the  mercy  of  God  l’2  It  is,  indeed,  one  of  the 
most  curious  things  in  moral  history,  to  observe  how  men 
who  were  sincerely  indignant  with  Pagan  writers  for  attri- 
buting to  their  divinities  the  frailties  of  an  occasional  jealousy 
or  an  occasional  sensuality — for  representing  them,  in  a word, 
like  men  of  mingled  characters  and  passions — have  neverthe- 
less unscrupulously  attributed  to  their  own  Divinity  a degree 
of  cruelty  which  may  be  confidently  said  to  transcend  the 
utmost  barbarity  of  which  human  nature  is  capable.  Neither 
Nero  nor  Phalaris  could  have  looked  complacently  for  ever  on 
millions  enduring  the  torture  of  fire — most  of  them  because 
of  a crime  which  was  committed,  not  by  themselves,  but  by 
then-  ancestors,  or  because  they  had  adopted  some  mistaken 
conclusion  on  intricate  questions  of  history  or  metaphysics.3 


different  kind — that  its  breast  was 
stained  with  blood  when  it  was 
trying  to  pull  out  the  thorns  from 
the  crown  of  Christ. 

1  Wright’s  Purgatory  of  St. 
Patrick,  p.  26.  M.  Delepierre 
quotes  a curious  theory  of-  Father 
Hardouin  (who  is  chiefly  known 
for  his  suggestion  that  the  classics 
were  composed  by  the  mediaeval 
monks)  that  the  rotation  of  the 
earth  is  caused  by  the  lost  souls 
trying  to  escape  from  the  fire  that 
is  at  the  centre  of  the  globe,  climb- 
ing, in  consequence,  on  the  inner 


crust  of  the  earth,  which  is  the 
wall  of  hell,  and  thus  making  the 
whole  revolve,  as  the  squirrel  by 
climbing  turns  its  cage!  [L'Enfer 
decrit  par  cevx  qui  Tont  mi,  p.  151.) 

2 Delepierre,  p.  70. 

3 Thus,  in  a book  which  was 
attributed  (it  is  said  erroneously)  to 
Jeremy  Taylor,  we  find  two  singu- 
larly unrhetorical  and  unimpas- 
sioned chapters,  deliberately  enu- 
merating the  most  atrocious  acts 
of  cruelty  in  human  history,  and 
maintaining  that  they  are  surpassed 
by  the  tortures  inflicted  by  the 


226 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


To  those  who  do  not  regard  such  teaching  as  true,  it  must 
appear  without  exception  the  most  odious  in  the  religious 
history  of  the  woild,  subversive  of  the  very  foundations  of 
morals,  and  well  fitted  to  transform  the  man  who  at  once 
realised  it,  and  accepted  it  with  pleasure,  into  a monster  of 
barbarity.  Of  the  writers  of  the  mediaeval  period,  certainly 
one  of  the  two  or  three  most  eminent  was  Peter  Lombard, 
whose  ‘ Sentences,’  though  now,  I believe,  but  little  read, 
were  for  a long  time  the  basis  of  all  theological  literature  in 
Europe.  More  than  four  thousand  theologians  are  said  to 
have  written  commentaries  upon  them  1 — among  others, 
Albert  the  Great,  St.  Bonaventura,  and  St.  Thomas  Aquinas. 
Nor  is  the  work  unworthy  of  its  former  reputation.  Calm, 
clear,  logical,  subtle,  and  concise,  the  author  professes  to  ex- 


Deity.  A few  instances  will  suffice. 
Certain  persons  ‘ put  rings  of  iron, 
stuck  full  of  sharp  points  of  needLs, 
about  their  arms  and  feet,  in  such 
a manner  as  the  prisoners  could 
Dot  move  without  wounding  them- 
selves; then  they  compassed  them 
about  with  fire,  to  the  end  that, 
standing  still,  they  might  be  burnt 
alive,  and  if  they  stirred  the  sharp 
points  pierced  their  flesh.  . . . 
What,  then,  shall  be  the  torment 
of  the  damned  where  they  shall 
burn  eternally  without  dying,  and 
without  possibility  of  removing? 
. . . Alexander,  the  son  of  Hyr- 
canus,  caused  eight  hundred  to  be 
crucified,  and  whilst  they  were  yet 
alive  caused  their  wives  and  chil- 
dren to  be  murdered  before  their 
eyes,  that  so  they  might  not  die 
once,  but  many  deaths.  This  rigour 
shall  no;  be  wanting  in  liell.  . . . 
Mezentius  lied  a living  body  to  a 
dead  until  the  putrefied  exhalations 
of  the  dead  had  killed  the  living, 
. . . What  is  this  in  respect  of 
hell,  when  each  body  of  the  damned 


is  more  loathsome  and  unsavoury 
than  a million  of  dead  dogs?  . . . 
Bonaventure  says,  if  one  of  the 
damned  were  brought  into  this 
world  it  were  sufficient  to  infect 
the  whole  earth.  ...  We  are 
amazed  to  think  of  the  inhumanity 
of  Phalaris,  who  roasted  men  alive 
in  his  brazen  bull.  That  was  a 
joy  in  respect  of  that  fire  of  hell. 
. . . This  torment  . . . comprises 
as  many  torments  as  the  body  of 
man  has  joints,  sinews,  arteries, 
&c.,  being  caused  by  that  penetra 
ting  and  real  fire,  of  which  this 
temporal  fire  is  but  a painted  fire. 
. . . What  comparison  will  theie 
be  between  burning  for  a hundred 
years’  space,  and  to  be  burning 
without  interruption  as  long  as  God 
is  God  ? ’ — Contemplations  on  tlu 
State  of  Man,  book  ii.  ch.  6-7,  in 
Ileber’s  Edition  of  the  works  ot 
Taylor. 

1 Perrone.  Histories  Theologies 
cum  PkUosophia  comparata  Synop- 
sis, p 29.  Peter  Lombard's  work 
was  published  in  a.d.  1160. 


FROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE. 


227 


pound  the  whole  system  of  Catholic  theology  and  ethics, 
and  to  reveal  the  interdependence  of  their  various  parts. 
Having  explained  the  position  and  the  duties,  he  proceeds  to 
examine  the  prospects,  of  man.  He  maintains  that  until  the 
day  of  judgment  the  inhabitants  of  heaven  and  hell  will 
continually  see  one  another;  but  that,  in  the  succeeding 
eternity,  the  inhabitants  of  heaven  alone  will  see  those  of  the 
opposite  world;  and  he  concludes  his  great  work  by  this 
most  impressive  passage  : ‘ In  the  last  place,  we  must  enquire 
whether  the  sight  of  the  punishment  of  the  condemned  will 
impair  the  glory  of  the  blest,  or  whether  it  will  augment 
their  beatitude.  Concerning  this,  Gregory  says  the  sight  of 
the  punishment  of  the  lost  will  not  obscure  the  beatitude  of 
the  just ; for  when  it  is  accompanied  by  no  compassion  it  can 
be  no  diminution  of  happiness.  And  although  their  own 
joys  might  suffice  to  the  just,  yet  to  their  greater  glory  they 
will  see  the  pains  of  the  evil,  which  by  grace  they  have 

escaped The  elect  will  go  forth,  not  indeed  locally, 

but  by  intelligence,  and  by  a clear  vision,  to  behold  the 
torture  of  the  impious,  and  as  they  see  them  they  will  not 
grieve.  Their  minds  will  be  sated  with  joy  as  they  gaze  on 
the  unspeakable  anguish  of  the  impious,  returning  thanks 
for  their  own  freedom.  Thus  Esaias,  describing  the  torments 
of  the  impious,  and  the  joy  of  the  righteous  in  ■witnessing  it, 
says  : “ The  elect  in  truth  will  go  out  and  will  see  the  0017)503 
of  men  who  have  prevaricated  against  Him  ; their  worm 
will  not  die,  and  they  will  be  to  the  satiety  of  vision  to  all 
flesh,  that  is  to  the  elect.  The  just  man  will  rejoice  when 
he  shall  see  the  vengeance.”  ’ 1 


1 ‘ Postremo  quaeritur,  An  poena 
reproborum  visa  decoloret  gloriam 
beatorum  ? an  eorum  beatitudini 
profieiat?  He  hoe  ita  Gregorius 
ait,  Apud  animum  justorum  non  ob- 
fuscat-  beatitudinem  aspecta  poena 
reproborum ; quia  ubi  jam  eom- 


passio  miseriae  non  erifc,  minueps 
beatorum  laetitlam  nonvalebit.  Et 
licet  justis  sua  gaudia  sufficiant, 
ad  maiorem  gloriam  vident  poenas 
malorum  quas  per  gratiam  evase- 
runt.  . . . Egredientur  ergo  electi, 
non  loco,  sed  iutelligentia  vel  visions 


228 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPE  AX  MORALS. 


This  passion  for  visions  of  hea  ven  and  hell  was,  in  fact, 
a natural  continuation  of  the  passion  for  dogmatic  definition, 
which  bad  raged  during  the  fifth  century.  It  was  natural 
hat  men,  whose  curiosity  had  left  no  conceivable  question  oi 
theology  undefined,  should  have  endeavoured  to  describe 
with  corresponding  precision  the  condition  of  the  dead. 
Much,  however,  was  due  to  the  hallucinations  of  solitary 
and  ascetic  life,  and  much  more  to  deliberate  imposture. 
It  is  impossible  for  men  to  continue  long  in  a condition  of 
extreme  panic,  and  superstition  speedily  discovered  remedies 
to  allay  the  fears  it  had  created.  If  a malicious  daemon  was 
hovering  around  the  believer,  and  if  the  jaws  of  hell  were 
opening  to  receive  him,  he  was  defended,  on  the  other  hand 
by  countless  angels;  a lavish  gift  to  a church  or  monastery 
could  always  enlist  a saint  in  his  behalf,  and  priestly  power 
could  protect  him  against  the  dangers  which  priestly  sagacity 
had  revealed.  When  the  angels  were  weighing  the  good  and 
evil  deeds  of  a dead  man,  the  latter  were  found  by  far  to 
preponderate ; but  a priest  of  St.  Lawrence  came  in,  and 
turned  tho  scale  by  throwing  down  among  the  former  a 
heavy  gold  chalice,  which  the  deceased  had  given  to  the 
altar.1  Dagobert  was  snatched  from  the  very  arms  of  daemons 
by  St.  Denis,  St.  -Maurice,  and  St.  Martin.2  Charlemagne 
was  saved,  because  the  monasteries  he  had  built  outweighed 


manifesto,  ad  videndum  impiorum 
cruciatus ; quos  videntes  non  dolore 
afficientur  sed  laeti tia  satiabuutur, 
agentes  gratias  de  sua  liberatione 
visa  impiorum  ineffabili  calamirate. 
Unde  Esaias  impiorum  tormenta 
describens  et  ex  eorum  visions  lte- 
t.itiam  bonorum  exprimens,  ait, 
Egredientur  electi  scilicet  et  vale- 
bant cadavera  virorum  qui  praeva- 
ricati  suut  iu  me.  Vermis  eorum 
non  morietur  et  ignis  non  extin- 
guetur,  et  erunt  usque  ad  satietatem 
visionis  omni  carni,  id  est  electis. 


Lsetabitur  Justus  cum  viderit  vin- 
dictam.’ — Peter  Lombard,  Scnten. 
lib.  iv.  finis.  These  amiable  views 
have  often  been  expressed  both  by 
Catholic  and  by  Puri  tan  divines.  See 
Alger’s  Doctrine  of  a Future  Life, 
p.  541. 

1 Legenda  Aurea.  There  is  a 
curious  fresco  representing  this 
transaction,  on  the  portal  of  tho 
church  of  St.  Lorenzo,  near  Rome. 

2 Aimoni,  De  Gestis  Francorum 
Hist.  iv.  31. 


FROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE. 


229 


ois  evil  deeds.1  Others,  who  died  in  mortal  sin,  were  raised 
from  the  dead  at  the  desire  of  their  patron  saint,  to  expiate 
their  guilt.  To  amass  relics,  to  acquire  the  patronage  of 
saints,  to  endow  monasteries,  to  build  churches,  became  the 
chief  part  of  religion,  and  the  more  the  terrors  of  the  unseen 
world  were  unfolded,  the  more  men  sought  tranquillity  by 
the  consolations  of  superstition.2 

The  extent  to  which  the  custom  of  materialising  religion 
was  carried,  can  only  be  adequately  realised  by  those  who 
have  examined  the  mediaeval  literature  itself.  That  which 
strikes  a student  in  perusing  this  literature,  is  not  so  much 
the  existence  of  these  superstitions,  as  their  extraordinary 
multiplication,  the  many  thousands  of  grotesque  miracles 
wrought  by  saints,  monasteries,  or  relics,  that  were  delibe- 
rately asserted  and  universally  believed.  Christianity  had 
assumed  a form  that  was  quite  as  polytheistic  and  quite  as 
idolatrous  as  the  ancient  Paganism.  The  low  level  of  intel- 
lectual cultivation,  the  religious  feelings  of  half-converted 
barbarians,  the  interests  of  the  clergy,  the  great  social  im- 
portance of  the  monasteries,  and  perhaps  also  the  custom  of 
compounding  for  nearly  all  crimes  by  pecuniary  fines,  which 
was  so  general  in  the  penal  system  of  the  barbarian  tribes, 
combined  in  their  different  ways,  with  the  panic  created  by 
the  fear  of  hell,  in  driving  men  in  the  same  direction,  and 
the  wealth  and  power  of  the  clergy  rose  to  a point  that 
enabled  them  to  overshadow  all  other  classes.  They  had 
found,  as  has  been  well  said,  in  another  world,  the  stand  in  g- 


1 Turpin’s  Chronicle,  cli.  32.  In 
the  vision  of  Watlin,  however  (a.d. 
624),  Charlemagne  was  seen  tor- 
tured in  purgatory  cn  account  of 
his  excessive  love  of  women.  (De- 
lopierre,  L’ Enfer  decrit  par  ceux 
qui  Vont  vu,  pp.  27-28.) 

2 As  the  Abb4  Mabl}  observes  : 
'On  crovoit  en  quelque  sorte  dans 


ces  siecles  grossiers  que  l’avarice 
etoit  le  premier  attribut  de  Dieu, 
et  que  les  saints  faisoient  un  com- 
merce de  leur  credit  et  de  leur  pro- 
tection. De-la  les  richesses  im- 
menses  donnees  aux  eglises  par  dea 
hommes  dont  les  moeurs  d^shono- 
roient  la  religion.’  — Observation i 
sur  mist,  dc  France , i.  4. 


47 


230 


HISTORY  OP  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


point  of  Archimedes  from  which  they  could  movo  this.  No 
rther  system  had  ever  appeared  so  admirably  fitted  to  endure 
for  ever.  The  Church  bad  crushed  or  silenced  every  oppo- 
nent in  Christendom.  It  had  an  absolute  control  ever 
education  in  all  its  branches  and  in  all  its  stages.  It  had  * 
absorbed  all  the  speculative  knowledge  and  art  of  Europe. 

It  possessed  or  commanded  wealth,  rank,  and  military  power. 

It  had  so  directed  its  teaching,  that  everything  which  terri- 
fied or  distressed  mankind  drove  men  speedily  into  its  arms, 
and  it  had  covered  Europe  with  a vast  network  of  insti- 
tutions, admirably  adapted  to  extend  and  perpetuate  its 
power.  In  addition  to  all  this,  it  had  guarded  with  con- 
summate skill  all  the  approaches  to  its  citadel.  Every 
doubt  was  branded  as  a sin,  and  a long  course  of  doubt 
must  necessarily  have  preceded  the  rejection  of  its  tenets. 
All  the  avenues  of  enquiry  were  painted  with  images  of 
appalling  suffering,  and  of  malicious  daemons.  No  sooner 
did  the  worshipper  begin  to  question  any  article  of  faith,  or 
to  lose  his  confidence  in  the  virtue  of  the  ceremonies  of  his 
Church,  than  he  was  threatened  with  a doom  that  no  human 
heroism  could  hrave,  that  no  imagination  could  contemplate 
undismayed. 

Of  all  the  suffering  that  was  undergone  by  those  brave 
men  who  in  ages  of  ignorance  and  superstition  dared  to 
break  loose  fi'om  the  trammels  of  their  Church,  and  who  laid 
the  foundation  of  the  liberty  we  now  enjoy,  it  is  this  which 
was  probably  the  most  poignant,  and  which  is  the  least 
realised.  Our  imaginations  can  reproduce  with  much  vivid- 
ness gigantic  massacres  like  those  of  the  Albigenses  or  of 
St.  Bartholomew.  We  can  conceive,  too,  the  tortures  of  the 
rack  and  of  the  boots,  the  dungeon,  the  scaffold,  and  the  slow 
firo.  We  can  estimate,  though  less  perfectly,  the  anguish 
which  the  bold  enquirer  must  have  undergone  from  the 
desertion  of  those  he  most  dearly  loved,  from  the  hatred  of 
mankind,  from  the  malignant  calumnies  that  were  heaped 


FROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE. 


231 


spoil  his  name.  But  in  the  chamber  of  his  own  soul,  in  the 
nours  of  his  solitary  meditation,  he  must  have  found  elements 
of  a suffering  that  was  still  more  acute.  Taught  from  his 
earliest  childhood  to  regard  the  abandonment  o-f  his  here- 
ditary opinions  as  the  most  deadly  of  crimes,  and  to  ascribe 
it  to  the  instigation  of  deceiving  daemons,  persuaded  that 
if  he  died  in  a condition  of  doubt  he  must  pass  into  a state 
of  everlasting  torture,  his  imagination  saturated  with  images 
of  the  most  hideous  and  appalling  anguish,  he  found  himself 
alone  in  the  world,  struggling  with  his  difficulties  and  his 
doubts.  There  existed  no  rival  sect  in  which  he  could  take 
refuge,  and  where,  in  the  professed  agreement  of  many  minds, 
he  could  forget  the  anathemas  of  the  Church.  Physical 
science,  that  has  disproved  the  theological  theories  which 
attribute  death  to  human  sin,  and  suffering  to  Divine  ven- 
geance, and  all  natural  phenomena  to  isolated  acts  of  Divine 
intervention — historical  criticism,  which  has  dispelled  so 
many  imposing  fabrics  of  belief,  traced  so  many  elaborate 
superstitions  to  the  normal  action  of  the  undisciplined  imagi- 
nation, and  explained  and  defined  the  successive  phases  of 
religious  progress,  were  both  unknown.  Every  comet  that 
blazed  in  the  sky,  every  pestilence  that  swept  over  the  land, 
appeared  a confirmation  of  the  dark  threats  of  the  theologian. 
A spirit  of  blind  and  abject  credulity,  inculcated  as  the  first 
of  duties,  and  exhibited  on  all  subjects  and  in  all  forms, 
pervaded  the  atmosphere  he  breathed.  Who  can  estimate 
aright  the  obstacles  against  which  a sincere  enquirer  in  such 
an  age  must  have  struggled?  Who  can  conceive  the  secret 
anguish  he  must  have  endured  in  the  long  months  or  years 
during  which  rival  arguments  gained  an  alternate  sway 
over  his  judgment,  while  all  doubt  was  still  regarded  as 
damnable?  And  even  when  his  mind  was  convinced,  his 
imagination  would  still  often  revert  to  his  old  belief.  Our 
thoughts  in  after  years  flow  spontaneously,  and  even  uncon 
sciously,  in  the  channels  that  are  formed  in  youth.  In 


232 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


moments  when  the  controlling  judgment  has  relaxed  its 
grasp,  old  intellectual  habits  reassume  their  sway,  ind 
images  painted  on  the  imagination  will  live,  when  the  intel- 
lectual propositions  on  winch  they  rested  have  been  wholly 
abandoned.  In  hours  of  weakness,  of  sickness,  and  of  drow- 
siness, in  the  feverish  and  anxious  moments  that  are  known 
to  all,  when  the  mind  floats  passively  upon  the  stream,  the 
phantoms  which  reason  had  exorcised  must  have  often  re- 
appeared, and  the  bitterness  of  an  ancient  tyranny  must  have 
entered  into  his  soul. 

It  is  one  of  the  greatest  of  the  many  services  that  were 
rendered  to  mankind  by  the  Troubadours,  that  they  cast 
such  a flood  of  ridicule  upon  the  visions  of  hell,  by  which 
the  monks  had  been  accustomed  to  terrify  mankind,  that 
they  completely  discredited  and  almost  suppressed  them.1 
Whether,  however,  the  Catholic  mind,  if  unassisted  by  the 
literature  of  Paganism  and  by  the  independent  thinkers  who 
grew  up  imder  the  shelter  of  Mohammedanism,  could  have 
ever  unwound  the  chains  that  had  bound  it,  may  well  be 
questioned.  The  growth  of  towns,  which  multiplied  secular 
interests  and  feelings,  the  revival  of  learning,  the  depression 
of  the  ecclesiastical  classes  that  followed  the  crusades,  and,  at 
last,  the  dislocation  of  Christendom  by  the  Reformation, 
gradually  impaired  the  ecclesiastical  doctrine,  which  ceased 
to  be  realised  before  it  ceased  to  be  believed.  There  was, 
however,  another  doctrine  which  exercised  a still  greater 
influence  in  augmenting  the  riches  of  the  clergy,  and  in 
making  donations  to  the  Church  the  chief  part  of  religion. 
I allude,  of  course,  to  the  doctrine  of  purgatory. 

A distinguished  modern  apologist  for  the  middle  ages 
lias  made  this  doctrine  the  object  of  his  special  and  very 
characteristic  eulogy,  because,  as  he  says,  by  providing  a 

1 Many  curious  examples  of  the  are  given  by  Delepierre,  p.  144. — 
way  in  which  the  Troubadours  bur-  Wright’s  Purgatory  oj  St.  Patrick. 
L'squud  the  monkish  visions  of  hell  47-&2. 


FK03I  CONSTANTINE  TO  CTTAIILEMAGNE.  ■ 233 


finite  punishment  graduated  to  every  variety  of  guilt,  and 
adapted  for  those  who,  without  being  sufficiently  virtuous 
to  pass  at  once  into  heaven,  did  not  appear  sufficiently 
vicious  to  pass  into  hell,  it  formed  an  indispensable  cor- 
rective to  the  extreme  terrorism  of  the  doctrine  of  eternal 
punishment.1  This  is  one  of  those  theories  which,  though 
exceedingly  popular  with  a class  of  writers  who  are  not  without 
influence  in  our  day,  must  appear,  I think,  almost  grotesque 
to  those  who  have  examined  the  actual  operation  of  the 
doctrine  during  the  middle  ages.  According  to  the  practical 
teaching  of  the  Church,  the  expiatory  powers  at  the  disposal 
of  its  clergy  were  so  great,  that  those  who  died  believing  its 
doctrines,  and  fortified  in  their  last  hours  by  its  rites,  had  no 
cause  whatever  to  dread  the  terrors  of  hell.  On  the  other 
hand,  those  who  died  external  to  the  Church  had  no  prospect 
of  entering  into  purgatory.  This  latter  was  designed  alto- 
gether for  true  believers ; it  was  chiefly  preached  at  a time 
tvhen  no  one  was  in  the  least  disposed  to  question  the  powers 
of  the  Church  to  absolve  any  crime,  however  heinous,  or  to 
free  the  worst  men  from  hell,  and  it  was  assuredly  never 
regarded  in  the  light  of  a consolation.  Indeed,  the  popular 
pictures  of  purgatory  were  so  terrific  that  it  may  be  doubted 
whether  the  imagination  could  ever  fully  realise,  though  the 
reason  could  easily  recognise,  the  difference  between  this  state 
and  that  of  the  lost.  The  fire  of  purgatory,  according  to  the 
most  eminent  theologians,  was  like  the  fire  of  hell — a literal 
fire,  prolonged,  it  was  sometimes  said,  for  ages.  The  de- 
clamations of  the  pulpit  described  the  sufferings  of  the  saved 
souls  in  purgatory  as  incalculably  greater  than  any  that  were 
endured  by  the  most  wretched  mortals  upon  earth.2  The  rude 


1 Comte  Philosophic  positive, 
tome  v.  p.  269. 

2 1 Sai  nt-Bernard,  dans  son  ser- 
mon T)c  ohitu  Humbert i,  affirme  quo 
tous  les  tourments  de  eette  vie  sont 


joies  si  on  les  compare  a uno  se- 
conde  des  peines  du  purgatoire. 
“ Imaginez-vous  done,  delicates 
dames,”  dit  le  pere  Valladier  (1 61 3) 
dans  son  sermon  du  3"“  dimancha 


23A 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


artists  of  medisevalism  exhausted  their  efforts  in  depicting 
the  writhings  of  the  dead  in  the  flames  that  encircled  them. 
Innumerable  visions  detailed  with  a ghastly  minuteness  the 
various  lands  of  torture  they  underwent,1  and  the  monk, 
who  described  what  he  professed  to  have  seen,  usually  ended 
by  the  characteristic  moral,  that  could  men  only  realise  those 
sufferings,  they  would  shrink  from  no  sacrifice  to  rescue  their 
friends  from  such  a state.  A special  place,  it  was  said,  was 
reserved  in  purgatory  for  those  who  had  been  slow  in  paying 
them  tithes.2  St.  Gregory  tells  a curious  story  of  a man 
who  was,  in  other  respects,  of  admirable  virtue;  but  who, 


de  l’Avent,  “ d’estre  au  travers  de 
vos  ehenets,  sur  vostre  petit  feu 
pour  une  centaine  d’ans  : ce  n’est 
rienau  respect  d'un  moment  de  pur- 
gatoire.  Mais  si  vous  vistes  jamais 
tirer  quelqu’un  a quatre  chevaux, 
quelqu’un  brusler  a petit  feu,  en- 
ragerdefaim  ou  desoif,  une heurede 
purgatoire  est  pire  que  tout  cela.”  ’) 
— Meray,  Les  Librcs  Precheurs 
(Paris,  1860),  pp.  130-131  (an  ex- 
tremely curious  and  suggestive 
book).  I now  take  up  the  first 
contemporary  book  of  popular  Ca- 
tholic devotion  on  this  subject  which 
is  at  hand,  and  read  : ‘ Compared 
with  the  paius  of  purgatory,  then, 
all  those  wounds  and  dark  prisons, 
all  those  wild  beasts,  hooks  of  iron, 
red-hot  plates,  &c.,  which  the  holy 
martyrs  suffered,  are  nothing.’ 
‘ They  (souls  in  purgatory)  are  in 
a real,  though  miraculous  manner, 
tortured  by  fire,  which  is  of  the 
same  kind  (says  Bellarmine)  as  our 
element  fire.’  ‘ The  Angelic  Doctor 
affirms  “that  the  fire  which  tor- 
ments the  damned  is  like  the  fire 
which  purges  the  elect.”’  ‘What 
agony  will  not  those  holy  souls 
suffer  when  tied  and  bound  with 
the  most  tormenting  chains  of  a 


living  fire  like  to  that  of  hell ! and 
we,  while  able  to  make  them  free 
and  happy,  shall  we  stand  like  un- 
interested spectators  ? ’ ‘St.  Austin 
is  of  opinion  that  the  pains  of  a 
soul  in  purgatory  during  the  time 
required  to  open  and  shut  one's 
eye  is  more  severe  than  what  St. 
Lawrence  suffered  on  the  gridiron ;’ 
and  much  more  to  the  same  effect. 
(Purga*o  -y  opened  to  the  Piety  of 
the  Faithful.  Richardson, London.) 

1 Seo  Delepierre,  Wright,  and 
Alger. 

2 This  appears  from  the  vision 
of  Thurcill.  (Wright’s  Purgatory 
of  St.  Patrick,  p.  42.)  Brompton 
( Chronicon)  tells  of  an  English  land- 
lord who  had  refused  to  pay  tithes. 
St.  Augustine,  having  vainly  rea- 
soned with  him,  at  last  convinced 
him  by  a miracle.  Before  celebrat- 
ing mass  he  ordered  all  excommuni- 
cated persons  to  leave  the  church, 
whereupon  a corpse  got  out  of  a 
grave  and  walked  away.  The  corpse, 
on  being  questioned,  said  it  was  the 
body  of  an  ancient  Briton  who  re- 
fused to  pay  tithes,  andhadin  con- 
sequence been  excommunicatedand 
damned. 


FROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE. 


235 


in  a contested  election  for  the  popedom,  supported  the  wrong 
candidate,  and  without,  as  it  would  appeal-,  in  any  degree 
refusing  to  obey  the  successful  candidate  when  elected,  con- 
tinued secretly  of  opinion  that  the  choice  was  an  unwise  one. 
lie  was  accordingly  placed  for  some  time  after  death  in 
boiling  water.1  Whatever  may  he  thought  of  its  othei 
aspects,  it  is  impossible  to  avoid  recognising  in  this  teaching  a 
masterly  skill  in  the  adaptation  of  means  to  ends,  which 
almost  rises  to  artistic  beauty.  A system  which  deputed  its 
minister  to  go  to  the  unhappy  widow  in  the  first  dark  hour 
of  her  anguish  and  her  desolation,  to  tell  her  that  he  who 
was  dearer  to  her  than  all  the  world  besides  was  now  burning 
in  av  fire,  and  that  he  could  only  be  relieved  by  a gift  of 
i his  ti  to  the  priests,  was  assuredly  of  its  own  land  not 
' 'Viemn.t  an  extraordinary  merit. 

® i t we  attempt  to  realise  the  moral  condition  of  the  society 
of  Western  Europe  in  the  period  that  elapsed  between  the  down- 
fall  of  the  Roman  Empire  and  Charlemagne,  during  which  the 
religious  transformations  I have  noticed  chiefly  arose,  we  shall 
be  met  by  some  formidable  difficulties.  In  the  first  place,  our 
materials  are  very  scanty.  From  the  year  a.d.  642,  when  the 
meagre  chronicle  of  Fredigarius  closes,  to  the  biography  of 
Charlemagne  by  Eginhard,  a century  later,  there  is  an  almost 
complete  blank  in  trustworthy  history,  and  we  are  reduced 
to  a few  scanty  and  very  doubtful  notices  in  the  chronicles  of 
monasteries,  the  lives  of  saints,  and  the  decrees  of  Councils. 
All  secular  literature  had  almost  disappeared,  and  the  thought 
of  posterity  seems  to  have  vanished  from  the  world.2  Of  the 
first  half  of  the  seventh  century,  however,  and  of  the  two 
centuries  that  preceded  it,  we  have  much  information  from 

1 Greg.  Dial.  iv.  40.  rains,  et  pendant  le  meme  espaee 

* As  Sismondi  says:  ‘Pendant  de  temps  il  n’y  eut  pas  un  person- 
quatre  vinuts  ans,  tout  au  moins,  nage  puissant  qui  ne  liatit  des 
il  n’y  eut  pas  un  Franc  qui  songe&t  temples  pour  la  postdrit^  la  plus 
i transmettre  a la  posterite  la  me-  recutee.’ — Hist,  des  Frun^ais,  tom« 
moiro  des  4v4uements  contempo-  ii.  p.  46. 


236 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


Gregory  of  Tours,  and  Fredigarius,  whose  tedious  and  repul- 
sive pages  illustrate  with  considerable  clearness  the  conflict  cl 
races  and  the  dislocation  of  governments  that  for  centuries 
existed.  In  Italy,  the  traditions  and  habits  of  the  old  Empiie 
had  in  some  degree  reasserted  their  sway;  but  in  Gaul  tha 
Church  subsisted  in  the  midst  of  barbarians,  whose  native 
vigour  had  never  been  emasculated  by  civilisation  and  refined 
by  knowledge.  The  picture  which  Gregory  of  Tours  gives  us 
is  that  of  a society  which  was  almost  absolutely  anarchical. 
The  mind  is  fatigued  by  the  monotonous  account  of  acts  of 
violence  and  of  fraud  springing  from  no  fixed  policy,  tending 
to  no  end,  leaving  no  lasting  impress  upon  the  world.'  The 
two  queens  Fredegonde  and  Brunehaut  rise  conspicuous  a1  aqve 
other  figures  for  their  fierce  and  undaunted  ambition,  fm  free 
fascination  they  exercised  over  the  minds  of  multitude 
for  the  number  and  atrocity  of  their  crimes.  All 
seem  to  have  been  almost  equally  tainted  with  vice.  We 
read  of  a bishop  named  Cautinus,  who  had  to  be  carried, 
when  intoxicated,  by  four  men  from  the  table ; 2 who,  upon 


1 Gibbon  says  of  the  period 
during  which  the  Merovingian  dy- 
nasty reigned,  that  ‘ it  would  be 
difficult  to  find  anywhere  more  vice 
or  less  virtue.’  Hallam  reproduces 
this  observation,  and  adds  : ‘ The 
factsof  these  times  are  of  littleother 
importance  than  as  they  impress 
on  the  mind  a thorough  notion  of 
the  extreme  wickedness  of  almost 
every  person  concerned  in  them, 
and  consequently  of  the  state  to 
which  society  was  reduced.’ — Hist, 
of  the  Middle  Ayes,  ch.  i.  Dean 
Milman  is  equally  unfavourable 
and  emphatic  in  his  judgment.  ‘ It 
is  difficult  to  conceive  a more  dark 
and  odious  state  of  society  than 
that  of  France  under  her  Merovin- 
gian kings,  the  descendants  of 

Clovis,  as  described  by  Gregory  of 


Tours.  In  the  conflict  of  barbarism 
with  Roman  Christianity,  barba- 
rism has  introduced  into  Christia- 
nity all  its  ferocity  with  none  of  its 
generosity  and  magnanimity ; its 
energy  shows  itself  in  atrocity  of 
cruelty,  and  even  of  sensuality. 
Christianity  has  given  to  barba- 
rism hardly  more  than  its  super- 
stition ami  its  hatred  of  heretics 
and  unbelievers.  Throughout,  as- 
sassinations, parricides,  and  fratri- 
cides intermingle  with  adulteries 
and  rapes.’ — History  of  Latin  Chris- 
tianity, vol.  i.  p.  365 

2 Grog.  Tur.  iv.  12.  Gregory  men- 
tions (v.  41)  another  bishop  who 
used  to  become  so  intoxicated  as  to 
he  unable  to  stand ; and  St.  Boni- 
face, after  describing  the  extrema 
sensuality  of  the  clergy  of  his  time 


FROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE. 


£S7 


the  refusal  of  one  of  Ills  priests  to  surrender  some  private 
property,  deliberately  ordered  that  priest  to  be  buried  alive, 
and  who,  when  the  victim,  escaping  by  a happy  chance  from 
the  sepulchre  in  which  be  had  been  immured,  revealed  the 
crime,  received  no  greater  punishment  than  a censure.1  The 
worst  sovereigns  found  flatterers  or  agents  in  ecclesiastics. 
Fredegonde  deputed  two  clerks  to  murder  Childebert,2  and 
another  clerk  to  murder  Brunehaut  ;3  she  caused  a bishop  of 
Rouen  to  be  assassinated  at  the  altar — a bishop  and  an  arch- 
deacon being  her  accomplices;4  and  she  found  in  another 
bishop,  named  AEgidius,  one  of  her  most  devoted  instruments 
and  friends.5  The  pope,  St.  Gregory  the  Great,  was  an 
ardent  flatterer  of  Brunehaut.6  Gundebald,  having  murdered 
his  three  brothers,  was  consoled  by  St.  Avitus,  the  bishop  of 
Vienne,  who,  without  intimating  the  slightest  disapprobation 
of  the  act,  assured  him  that  by  removing  his  rivals  he  had 
been  a pi-ovidential  agent  in  preserving  the  happiness  of  his 
people.7  The  bishoprics  were  filled  by  men  of  notorious 
debauchery,  or  by  grasping  misers.8  The  priests  sometimes 
celebrated  the  sacred  mysteries  ‘ gorged  with  food  and  dull 
with  wine.’9  They  had  already  begun  to  carry  arms, 
and  Gregory  tells  of  two  bishops  of  the  sixth  century 


adds  that  there  are  some  bishops 
‘ qui  licet  dicant  se  fornicarios 
vel  adulteros  non  esse,  sed  sunt 
ebriosi  et  injuriosi,’  &cc.—Ep. 
xlix. 

1 Greg.  Tur.  iv.  12. 

‘‘  Ibid.  viii.  29.  She  gave  them 
knives  with  hollow  grooves,  filled 
with  poison,  in  the  blades. 

3 Ibid.  vii.  20. 

4 Ibid.  viii.  31-41. 

* Ibid.  v.  19. 

8 See  his  very  curious  corre- 
rpondence  with  her. — Ep.  vi.  5, 
SO,  59  ; ix.  11,  117  ; xi.  62-63. 

1 Avitus,  Ep.  v.  He  adds  : 1 Mi- 


nuebat  regni  felicitas  numerum  re- 
galium  personarum.’ 

8 See  the  emphatic  testimony  of 
St.  Boniface  in  the  eighth  century. 
‘ Modo  autem  maxima  ex  parte  per 
civitates  episcopales  sedes  traditae 
sunt  laieis  cupidis  ad  possidendum, 
vel  adulteratis  clericis,  scortato- 
ribus  et  publicanis  sseculariter  ad 
perfruendum.’ — Epist.x lix.  ‘ adZa- 
chariam.’  The  whole  epistle  con- 
tains an  appalling  picture  of  the 
clerical  vices  of  the  times. 

“ More  than  one  Council  made 
decrees  about  this.  See  the  Vie 
de  St.  Leger,  by  Dom  Pitra,  pp. 
172-177. 


238 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


who  had  killed  many  enemies  with  them  own  hands.1  There 
was  scarcely  a reign  that  was  not  marked  by  some  atrocious 
domestic  tragedy.  There  were  few  sovereigns  who  were  not 
guilty  of  at  least  one  deliberate  murder.  Never,  perhaps, 
was  the  infliction  of  mutilation,  and  prolonged  and  agonising 
forms  of  death,  more  common.  We  read,  among  other  atro- 
cities, of  a bishop  being  driven  to  a distant  place  of  exile 
upon  a bed  of  thorns;2  of  a king  burning  together  his  rebel- 
lious son,  his  daughter-in-law,  and  their  daughters  ; 3 of  a 
queen  condemning  a daughter  she  had  had  by  a former  mar- 
riage to  be  drowned,  lest  her  beauty  should  excite  the  passions 
of  her  b usband  ; 4 of  another  queen  endeavouring  to  strangle 
her  daughter  with  her  own  hands  ;5  of  an  abbot,  compelling 
a poor  man  to  abandon  his  house,  that  he  might  commit 
adultery  with  his  wife,  and  being  murdered,  together  with  his 
partner,  in  the  act;6  of  a prince  who  made  it  an  habitual 
amusement  to  torture  his  slaves  with  fire,  and  who  buried 
two  of  them  alive,  because  they  had  married  without  his 
permission ; 7 of  a bishop’s  wife,  who,  besides  other  crimes, 
was  accustomed  to  mutilate  men  and  to  torture  women,  by 
applying  red-hot  irons  to  the  most  sensitive  parts  of  their 
bodies;8  of  great  number's  who  were  deprived  of  their  ears 


1 Greg.  Tur.  iv.  43.  St.  Boni- 
face, at  a much  Inter  period  (a.d. 
742),  talks  of  bishops  ‘ Qui  png- 
nan  t in  exercitu  armati  et  effun- 
dunt  propria  manu  sanguinem  ho- 
minum.’ — Kp.  xlix. 

2 Greg.  Tur.  iv.  26. 

8 Ibid.  iv.  20. 

' Ibid.  iii.  26.  5 Ibid.  ix.  34. 

6  Ibid.  viii.  19.  Gregory  says 
this  story  should  warn  cler- 
gymen not  to  meddle  with  the 
wives  of  other  people,  but  ‘ content 

themselves  with  those  that  theymay 

possess  without  crime.’  The  abbot 

had  previously  tried  to  seduce  the 


husband  within  the  precincts  of 
the  monastery,  that  he  might  mur- 
der him 

7 Ibid  v.  3. 

8 Ibid.  viii.  39.  She  was  guilty 
of  many  other  crimes,  which  the 
historian  says  ' itisbetter  to  pass  in 
silence.’  The  bishop  himself  had 
been  guilty  of  outrageous  and  vio- 
lent tyranny.  The  marriage  of 
ecclesiastics  appears  at  this  time 
to  have  been  common  in  Gaul, 
though  the  best  men  commonly  de- 
serted their  wives  when  they  were 
ordained.  Another  bishop’s  wife  (iv 
36)  was  notorious  for  her  tyranny. 


FROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE. 


239 


arid  noses,  tortured  through  several  days,  and  at  last  burnt 
alive  or  broken  slowly  on  the  wheel.  Brunehaut,  at  the 
close  of  her  long  and  in  some  respects  great  though  guilty 
career,  fell  into  the  hands  of  Clotaire,  and  the  old  queen, 
having  been  subjected  for  three  days  to  various  kinds  of 
torture,  was  led  out  on  a camel  for  the  derision  of  the  army, 
and  at  last  bound  to  the  tail  of  a furious  horse,  and  dashed 
to  pieces  in  its  course.1 

And  yet  this  age  was,  in  a certain  sense,  eminently 
religious.  All  literature  had  become  sacred.  Heresy  of 
every  kind  was  rapidly  expiring.  The  priests  and  monks 
had  acquired  enormous  power,  and  their  wealth  was  inor- 
dinately increasing.2  Several  sovereigns  voluntarily  aban- 
doned their  thrones  for  the  monastic  life.3  The  seventh 
century,  which,  together  with  the  eighth,  forms  the  darkest 
period  of  the  dark  ages,  is  famous  in  the  liagiology  as 
uaving  produced  more  saints  than  any  other  century, 
except  that  of  the  martyr’s.4 

The  manner  in  which  events  were  regarded  by  historians 
was  also  exceedingly  characteristic.  Our  principal  authority, 


1 Fredigarius,  xlii.  The  histo- 
rian describes  Oiotaire  as  a perfect 
paragon  of  Christian  graces. 

* ‘ Au  sixieme  siecle  on  compte 
214  etablissements  religieux  des 
Pyrenees  a la  Loire  et  des  bouches 
du  Rhone  aux  Vosges.’ — Ozanam, 
Etudes  germaniques , tome  ii.  p.  93. 
In  the  two  following  centuries  the 
ecclesiastical  wealth  was  enor- 
mously increased. 

3 Matthew  of  Westminster  (a.d. 
757)  speaks  of  no  less  than  eight 
Saxon  kings  having  done  this. 

4 1 Le  septieme  siecle  est  celui 
peut-etre  qui  a donn6  le  plus  de 
saints  au  calendrier.’  — Sismondi, 
Hist,  de  France,  tome  ii.  p.  50. 
1 Le  plus  beau  titre  du  sepiieme 
tiecle  a ime  rehabilitation  c’est  lo 


nombre  considerable  de  saints  qu'il 
a produits.  . . . Aucun  siecle  n’a 
et&  ainsi  glorifie  sauf  l’age  des 
martyrs  dont  Lieu  s’est  reserve  de 
compter  le  nombre.  Chaque  annee 
fournit  sa  moisson,  chaque  jour  a 
sa  gerbe.  ...  Si  done  il  plait  a 
Dieu  et  an  Christ  de  repandre  a 
pleines  mains  sur  un  siecle  les 
splendeurs  des  saints,  qu'importo 
que  l’histoire  et  la  gloire  humaine 
en  tiennent  peu  compte  ? ’ — Pitra, 
Vie  de  St.  Lcger , Introd.  p.  x.-xi. 
This  learned  and  very  credulous 
writer  (who  is  now  a cardinal)  after- 
wards says  that  we  have  the  record 
of  more  than  eight  hundred  saints 
of  the  seventh  century.  (lutrod.  p. 
lxxx.) 


240 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


Gregory  of  Tours,  was  a bishop  of  great  eminence,  and  a 
man  of  the  most  genuine  piety,  and  of  very  strong  affections.1 
He  describes  his  work  as  a record  ‘ of  the  virtues  of  saints, 
and  the  disasters  of  nations ; ’ 2 and  the  student  who  turns  tc 
his  pages  from  those  of  the  Pagan  historians,  is  not  more 
struck  by  the  extreme  prominence  he  gives  to  ecclesiastical 
events,  than  by  the  uniform  manner  in  which  he  views 
all  secular  events  in  their  religious  aspect,  as  governed 
and  directed  by  a special  Providence.  Yet,  in  questions 
where  the  difference  between  orthodoxy  and  heterodoxy 
is  concerned,  his  ethics  sometimes  exhibit  the  most  singular 
distortion.  Of  this,  probably  the  most  impressive  example 
is  the  manner  in  which  he  has  described  the  career  of 
Clovis,  the  great  representative  of  orthodoxy.3  Having 
recounted  the  circumstances  of  his  conversion,  Gregory 
proceeds  to  tell  us,  with  undisguised  admiration,  how  that 
chieftain,  as  the  first-fruits  of  his  doctrine,  professed  to  be 
grieved  at  seeing  that  part  of  Gaul  was  held  by  an  Arian 
sovereign;  how  he  accordingly  resolved  to  invade  and 
appropriate  that  territory ; how,  with  admirable  piety,  he 
commanded  his  soldiers  to  abstain  from  all  devastations  when 
traversing  the  territory  of  St.  Martin,  and  how  several 
miracles  attested  the  Divine  approbation  of  the  expedition. 
The  war— which  is  the  first  of  the  long  series  of  professedly 
religious  wars  that  have  been  undertaken  by  Christians — - 
was  fully  successful,  and  Clovis  proceeded  to  direct  his 
ambition  to  new  fields.  In  Iris  expedition  against  the 
Arians,  he  had  found  a faithful  ally  in  his  relative  Sighebert, 
the  old  and  infirm  king  of  the  Ilipuarian  Franks.  Clovis 
now  proceeded  artfully  to  suggest  to  the  son  of  Sighebert 
(lie  advantages  that  son  might  obtain  by  his  father’s  death. 
The  hint  was  taken.  Sighebert  was  murdered,  and  Clovia 


1 See,  e.g.,  the  very  touchingpas-  2 Lib.  ii.  Prologue, 

sage  about  the  death  of  his  chil-  3 Greg.  Tur.  ii.  27-43. 

iron,  v.  35. 


FROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE. 


241 


E>ent  ambassadors  to  the  parricide,  professing  a warm  fiiend- 
sm'p,  but  with  secret  orders  on  the  first  opportunity  to  kill 
him.  This  being  done,  and  the  kingdom  being  left  entirely 
without  a head,  Clovis  proceeded  to  Cologne,  the  capital  of 
Sighebert ; he  assembled  the  people,  professed  with  much 
solemnity  his  horror  of  the  tragedies  that  had  taken  place, 
and  his  complete  innocence  of  all  connection  with  them  ; 1 
but  suggested  that,  as  they  were  now  without  a ruler,  they 
should  place  themselves  under  his  protection.  The  proposi- 
tion was  received  with  acclamation.  The  warriors  elected 
him  as  their  king,  and  thus,  says  the  episcopal  historian, 
1 Clovis  received  the  treasures  and  dominions  of  Sighebert, 
and  added  them  to  his  own.  Every  day  God  caused  his 
enemies  to  fall  beneath  his  hand,  and  enlarged  his  kingdom, 
because  he  walked  with  a right  heart  before  the  Lord,  and 
did  the  things  that  were  pleasing  in  His  sight.’ 2 His 
ambition  was,  however,  still  unsated.  He  proceeded,  in  a 
succession  of  expeditions,  to  unite  the  whole  of  Gaul  under 
his  sceptre,  invading,  defeating,  capturing,  and  slaying  the 
lawful  sovereigns,  who  were  for  the  most  part  his  own 
relations.  Having  secured  himself  against  dangers  from 
without,  by  killing  all  his  relations,  with  the  exception  of 
his  wife  and  children,  he  is  reported  to  have  lamented 
before  his  courtiers  his  isolation,  declaring  that  he  had  no 
relations  remaining  in  the  world  to  assist  him  in  his 
adversity;  but  this  speech,  Gregory  assures  us,  was  a strata- 
gem ; for  the  king  desired  to  discover  whether  any  possible 
pretender  to  the  throne  had  escaped  his  knowledge  and  his 


1 He  observes  howimpossible  it  2 ‘ Prcsternebat  enim  quotidia 
was  that  he  could  be  guilty  of  shed-  Deus  hostes  ejus  sub  manu  ipsius, 
ding  the  blood  of  a relation  : ‘ Sed  et  augebat  regnum  ejus  eo  quod 
in  his  ego  nequaquam  conscius  ambularet  recto  corde  coram  eo,  et 
sum.  Nec  enim  possum  sanguinem  faceret  quae  plaeita  erant  in  oculis 
parentum  meorum  effundere.’ — ejus.’ — Greg.  Tur.  ii.  40. 

Greg.  Tur  ii.  40 


242 


HISTORY  OR  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


sword.  Soon  after,  he  died,  full  of  years  and  honours,  and 
was  buried  in  a cathedral  which  he  had  built. 

Having  • recounted  all  these  things  with  unmoved  com- 
posure, Gregory  of  Tours  requests  his  reader  to  permit  him 
to  pause,  to  draw  the  moral  of  the  history.  It  is  the 
admirable  manner  in  which  Providence  guides  all  things 
for  the  benefit  of  those  whose  opinions  concerning  the  Trinity 
are  strictly  orthodox.  Having  briefly  referred  to  Abraham, 
Jacob,  Moses,  Aaron,  and  David,  all  of  whom  are  said  to 
have  intimated  the  correct  doctrine  on  this  subject,  and 
all  of  whom  were  exceedingly  prosperous,  he  passes  to  more 
modern  times.  ‘ A rius,  the  impious  founder  of  the  impious 
sect,  his  entrails  having  fallen  out,  passed  into  the  flames  of 
hell ; but  Hilary,  the  blessed  defender  of  the  undivided 
Trinity,  though  exiled  on  that  account,  found  his  country  in 
Paradise.  The  King  Clovis,  who  confessed  the  Trinity, 
and  by  its  assistance  crushed  the  heretics,  extended  his 
dominions  through  all  Gaul.  Alaric,  who  denied  the  Trinity, 
was  deprived  of  his  kingdom  and  his  subjects,  and,  what  was 
far  worse,  was  punished  in  the  future  world.’ 1 

It  would  be  easy  to  cite  other,  though  perhaps  not  quite 
such  striking,  instances  of  the  degree  in  which  the  moral 
judgments  of  this  unhappy  age  were  distorted  by  superstition.2 
Questions  of  orthodoxy,  or  questions  of  fasting,  appeared  to 
the  popular  mind  immeasurably  more  important  than  what 


1 Lib.  iii.  Prologue.  St.  Avitus 
enumerates  in  glowing  terms  the 
Chri  st  ian  virtues  of  Ch  .vis  [Ep.  xli. ), 
but,  as  thiswas  in  a letter  addressed 
to  the  king  himself,  the  eulogy  may 
easily  be  explained. 

2 Thus Hallam says : 'There are 
continual  proofs  of  immorality  in 
the  monkish  historians.  In  the 
history  of  Rumsey  Abbey,  one  of 
onr  best  documents  for  Anglo-Saxon 
times,  we  havo  an  aueedote  of  a 


bishop  who  made  a Danish  noble- 
man drunk,  that  he  might  cheat 
him  out  of  an  estate,  which  is  told 
with  much  approbation.  Walter  da 
Hemingford  records,  with  oxcessivo 
delight,  the  well-known  story  oi 
the  Jews  who  were  porsuaded  by 
the  captain  of  their  vessel  to  walk 
on  the  sands  at  low  water  till  the 
rising  tide  drowned  them.’ — Hal 
lam’s  Middle  Ayes  (12th  ed.),  iii.  p, 
306. 


FROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMMGNE.  243 


we  should  now  call  the  fundamental  principles  of  right 
and  v>  rong.  A law  of  Charlemagne,  and  also  a law  of  the 
Saxons,  condemned  to  death  any  one  who  ate  meat  in  Lent,1 
unless  the  priest  was  satisfied  that  it  was  a matter  of  absolute 
necessity.  The  moral  enthusiasm  of  the  age  chiefiy  drove 
men  to  abandon  their  civic  or  domestic  duties,  to  immure 
themselves  in  monasteries,  and  to  waste  their  strength  by 
prolonged  and  extravagant  maceration.2  Yet,  in  the  midst 
of  all  this  superstition,  there  can  be  no  question  that  in 
some  respects  the  religious  agencies  were  operating  for  good. 
The  monastic  bodies  that  everywhere  arose,  formed  secure 
asylums  for  the  multitudes  who  had  been  persecuted  by 
their  enemies,  constituted  an  invaluable  counterpoise  to  the 
rude  military  forces  of  the  time,  familiarised  the  imagination 
of  men  with  religious  types  that  could  hardly  fail  in  some 
degree  to  soften  the  character,  and  led  the  way  in  most 
forms  of  peaceful  labour.  When  men,  filled  with  admiration 
at  the  reports  of  the  sanctity  and  the  miracles  of  some 
illustrious  saint,  made  pilgrimages  to  behold  him,  and  found 
him  attired  in  the  rude  garb  of  a peasant,  with  thick  shoes, 
and  with  a scythe  on  his  shoulder,  superintending  the  labours 
of  the  farmers,3  or  sitting  in  a small  attic  mending  lamps,4 
whatever  other  benefit  they  might  derive  from  the  interview, 
they  coudcl  scarcely  fail  to  return  with  an  increased  sense  of 


1  Canciani,  Leges  Barbarorum, 
vol.  iii.  p.  64.  Canciani  notices, 
that  among  the  Poles  the  teeth  of 
the  offending  persons  were  pulled 
out.  The  following  passage,  from 
Beylin,  is,  I think,  very  remarkable : 

1 lies  loix  et  canons  veulent  qu'on 
pardonne  aux  heritiques  repeutis 
(combien  que  les  magistrats  en 
quelques  lieux  par  ey-devant,  y ont 
eu  tel  esgard,  que  celui  qui  avoit 

mange  de  la  chair  au  Vendredy 

estoit.  brusle  tout  vif,  comme  il  fut 
faict  en  la  ville  d' Angers  l’an  mil 


cinq  cens  trente-neuf,  s’i  1 ne  s’en 
repentoit:  et  ja9oit  qu’il  se  repen- 
tist  si  estoit-il  pendu  par  compas- 
sion).’— Deraonomanie  des  Soroiers, 

p.  216. 

2 A long  list  of  examples  of  ex- 
treme maceration,  from  lives  of  the 
saints  of  the  seventh  and  eighth 
centuries  is  given  by  Pitra,  Vie  de 
St.  Leger,  Introd.  pp.  cv.-cvii. 

3 This  was  related  of  St.  Equi- 
tius. — Greg.  Dialog,  i.  4. 

1 Ibid.  i.  5.  This  saint  was 
named  Constantins. 


2-14 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


the  dignity  of  labour.  It  was  probably  at  this  time  as  much 
for  the  benefit  of  the  world  as  of  the  Church,  that  the 
ecclesiastical  sanctuaries  and  estates  should  remain  inviolate, 
and  the  numerous  legends  of  Divine  punishment  having 
overtaken  those  who  transgressed  them,1  attest  the  zeal  with 
which  the  clergy  sought  to  establish  that  inviolability.  The 
great  sanctity  that  was  attached  to  holidays  was  also  an 
important  boon  to  the  servile  classes.  The  celebration  of  tbo 
first  day  of  the  week,  in  commemoration  of  the  resurrection, 
and  as  a period  of  religious  exercises,  dates  from  the  earliest 
age  of  the  Church.  The  Christian  festival  was  carefully 
distinguished  from  the  Jewish  Sabbath,  with  which  it  never 
appears  to  have  been  confounded  till  the  close  of  the  six- 
teenth cenlury;  but  some  Jewish  converts,  who  considered 
the  Jewish  law  to  be  still  in  force,  observed  both  days.  In 
general,  however,  the  Christian  festival  alone  was  observed, 
and  the  Jewish  Sabbatical  obligation,  as  St.  Paul  most 
explicitly  affirms,  no  longer  rested  upon  the  Christians.  The 
grounds  of  the  observance  of  Sunday  were  the  manifest 
propriety  and  expediency  of  devoting  a certain  portion  of 
time  to  devout  exercises,  the  tradition  which  traced  the 
sanctification  of  Sunday  to  apostolic  times,  and  the  right  of 
the  Church  to  appoint  certain  seasons  to  be  kept  holy  by  its 
members.  When  Christianity  acquired  an  ascendancy  in  the 
Empire,  its  policy  on  this  subject  was  manifested  in  one  of 
the  laws  of  Constantine,  which,  without  making  any  direct 
reference  to  religious  motives,  ordered  that,  ‘ on  the  day  of 
the  sun,’  no  servile  work  should  be  performed  except 


1 A vast  number  of  miracles  of  broken  into  rebellion,  four  bishops, 
this  kind  are  recorded.  See,  e.g.,  with  their  attendant  clergy,  went 
Greg.  Tur.  De  Miraculis,  i.  61-66  ; to  compose  the  dispute,  and  having 
Hist.  iv.  49.  Perhaps  the  most  failed,  excommunicated  the  rebels, 
singular  instance  of  the  violation  of  whereupon  the  nuns  almost  bea  t 
the  sanctity  of  the  church  was  that  them  to  death  in  the  church 
by  the  nuns  of  a convent  founded  - — Greg.  Tur.  ix.  41. 
by  St.  Radegunda.  They,  having 


FROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE. 


245 


agriculture,  which,  being  dependent  on  the  weather,  could 
not,  it  was  thought,  he  reasonably  postponed.  Theodosius 
took  a step  further,  and  suppressed  the  public  spectacles  on 
that  day.  During  the  centuries  that  immediately  followed 
the  dissolution  of  the  Roman  Empire,  the  clergy  devoted 
themselves  with  great  and  praiseworthy  zeal  to  the  suppression 
of  labour  both  on  Sundays  and  on  the  other  leading  Church 
holidays.  More  than  one  law  was  made,  forbidding  all 
Sunday  labour,  and  this  prohibition  was  reiterated  by 
Charlemagne  in  his  Capitularies.1  Several  Councils  made 
decrees  on  the  subject,2  and  several  legends  were  circulated, 
of  men  who  had  been  afflicted  miraculously  with  disease  or 
with  death,  for  having  been  guilty  of  this  sin.3  Although 
the  moral  side  of  religion  was  greatly  degraded  or  forgotten, 
there  was,  as  I have  already  intimated,  one  important  excep- 
tion. Charity  was  so  interwoven  with  the  superstitious 
parts  of  ecclesiastical  teaching,  that  it  continued  to  grow  and 
flourish  in  the  darkest  period.  Of  the  acts  of  Queen  Bathilda, 
it  is  said  we  know  nothing  except  her  donations  to  the 
monasteries,  and  the  charity  with  which  she  purchased  slaves 
and  captives,  and  released  them  or  converted  them  into 
monks.4  While  many  of  the  bishops  were  men  of  gross  and 
scandalous  vice,  there  were  always  some  who  laboured 
assiduously  in  the  old  episcopal  vocation  of  protecting  the 
oppressed,  interceding  for  the  captives,  and  opening  their 
sanctuaries  to  the  fugitives.  St.  Germanus,  a bishop  of  Paris, 


1 See  Caneiani,  Leges  Barbaro- 
rum,  vol.  iii.  pp.  19,  151. 

2 Much  information  about  these 
measures  is  given  by  Dr.  Hessey, 
in  his  Bamjdon  Lectures  on  Sunday. 
See  especially,  lect.  3.  See.  too, 
Moehler,  Lc  Chrisfianisme  et  VEs- 
clavage , pp.  186-187. 

* Gregory  of  Tours  enumerates 
some  instances  of  this  in  his  extra- 

vagant book  De  Miraculis,  ii.  11  ; 


iv.  57 ; v.  7-  One  of  these  cases, 
however,  was  for  having  worked  on 
the  day  of  St.  John  the  Baptist. 
Some  other  miracles  of  the  same 
nature,  taken,  I believe,  from  Ena- 
glish  sources,  are  given  in  Hessey's 
Sunday  (3rd edition),  p.  321. 

4 Compare  Pitra,  Lie  de  St.- 
Legcr.'p.  137.  Sismondi,  Hist,  da 
Frangais , tome  ii.  pp.  62-63. 


48 


24G 


HISTOEY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


near  the  close  of  the  sixth  century,  was  especially  famous  fox 
his  zeal  in  ransoming  captives.1  The  fame  he  acquired  was 
bo  great,  that  prisoners  are  said  to  have  called  upon  him 
to  assist  them,  in  the  interval  between  his  death  and  his 
burial ; and  the  body  of  the  saint  becoming  miraculounl  y 
heavy,  it  was  found  impossible  to  carry  it  to  the  grave  till 
the  captives  had  been  released.2  In  the  midst  of  the  complete 
eclipse  of  all  secular  learning,  in  the  midst  of  a reign  of 
ignorance,  imposture,  and  credulity  which  cannot  be  paralleled 
iu  history,  there  grew  up  a vast  legendary  literature,  cluster- 
ing around  the  form  of  the  ascetic ; and  the  lives  of  the  saints, 
among  very  much  that  is  grotesque,  childish,  and  even 
immoral,  contain  some  fragments  of  the  purest  and  most 
touching  religious  poetry.3 

But  the  chief  title  of  the  period  we  are  considering,  to 
the  indulgence  of  postei’ity,  lies  in  its  missionary  labours. 
The  stream  of  missionaries  which  had  at  first  flowed  from 
Palestine  and  Italy  began  to  flow  from  the  West.  The 
Irish  monasteries  furnished  the  earliest,  and  probably  the 
most  numerous,  labourers  in  the  field.  A great  portion  of 
the  north  of  England  was  converted  by  the  Irish  monks  of 
Lindisfarne.  The  fame  of  St.  Columbanus  in  Gaul,  in 
Germany,  and  in  Italy,  for  a time  even  balanced  that  of  St. 
Benedict  himself,  and  the  school  which  he  founded  at  Luxeuil 
became  the  great  seminary  for  mediaeval  missionaries,  while 


1  See  a remarkable  passage  from 
his  life,  cited  by  Guizot,  Hist,  dc  la 

Civilisation  en  France,  xviim0  lec;on. 

The  English  historians  contain 
several  instances  of  the  activity  of 
charity  in  the  darkest  period.  Al- 
fred and  Edward  the  Confessor 
were  conspicuous  for  it.  Et.helwolf 
is  said  to  have  provided,  ‘ for  the 
good  of  his  soul,’  that,  till  the  day 
of  judgment,  one  poor  man  in  ten 
should  he  provided  with  meat, 
drink,  and  clothing.  (Assor’s  Life 


of  Alfred.)  There  was  a popular 
legend  that  a poor  man  having 
in  vain  asked  alms  of  some  sailors, 
all  the  bread  in  their  vessel  was 
turned  into  stone.  (Roger  of  Wen- 
dover,  a.d.  606.)  See,  too,  another 
legend  of  charity  in  Matthew  of 
Westminster,  a.d.  611. 

2 Greg.  Tur.  Hist.  v.  8. 

3 M.  Guizot  has  given  several 
specimens  of  this  (Hist,  dc  la  Civihs. 
xvii"'”  leejon). 


FROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE.  247 


the  monastery  he  planter!  at  Bobbio  continued  to  the  present 
century.  The  Irish  missionary,  St.  Gall,  gave  his  name  to 
a portion  of  Switzerland  he  had  converted,  and  a crowd  of 
other  Irish  missionaries  penetrated  to  the  remotest  forests  of 
Germany.  The  movement  which  began  with  St.  Columba 
in  the  middle  of  the  sixth  century,  was  communicated  to 
England  and  Gaul  about  a century  later.  Early  in  the 
eighth  century  it  found  a great  leader  in  the  Anglo-Saxon 
St.  Boniface,  who  spread  Christianity  far  and  wide  through 
Germany,  and  at  once  excited  and  disciplined  an  ardent 
enthusiasm,  which  appears  to  have  attracted  all  that  was 
morally  best  in  the  Church.  During  about  three  centuries, 
and  while  Europe  had  sunk  into  the  most  extreme  moral, 
intellectual,  and  political  degradation,  a constant  stream  of 
missionaries  poured  forth  from  the  monasteries,  who  spread 
the  knowledge  of  the  Cross  and  the  seeds  of  a future  civi- 
lisation through  every  land,  from  Lombardy  to  Sweden.1 

On  the  whole,  however,  it  would  be  difficult  to  exaggerate 
the  superstition  and  the  vice  of  the  period  between  the  dis- 
solution of  the  Empire  and  the  reign  of  Charlemagne.  But, 
in  the  midst  of  the  chaos  the  elements  of  a new  society  may 
be  detected,  and  we  may  already  observe  in  embryo  the 
movement  which  ultimately  issued  in  the  crusades,  the  feudal 
system,  and  chivalry.  It  is  exclusively  with  the  moral 
aspect  of  this  movement  that  the  present  work  is  con- 
cerned, and  I shall  endeavour,  in  the  remainder  of  this 
chapter,  to  describe  and  explain  its  incipient  stages.  It 
consisted  of  two  parts — a fusion  of  Christianity  with  the 


1 This  portion  of  mediaeval  his- 
tory has  lately  been  well  traced 
by  Mr.  Maclear,  in  his  History  of 
Christian  Missions  in  the  Middle 
Ages  (1863).  See,  too,  Montalem- 
bert’s  Moines  a V Occident ; Ozanam’s 
Etudes  germaniques.  The  original 
materials  are  to  be  found  in  Bede, 


and  in  the  Lives  of  the  Saints — 
especially  that  of  St.  Columba.  by 
Adamnan.  On  the  French  mission- 
aries, see  the  Benedictine  Hist.  lit. 
de  la  France , tome  iv.  p.  5 ; and  on 
the  English  missionaries,  Sharon 
Turner's  Hist,  of  England , book  x. 
ch.  ii. 


248 


IIISTOBY  OF  EUEOPEAN  MOBALS. 


military  spirit,  and  an  increasing  reverence  for  secular 
i imk. 

It  had  been  an  ancient  maxim  of  the  Greeks,  that  no 
more  acceptable  gifts  can  be  offered  in  the  temples  of  the 
gods  than  the  trophies  won  from  an  enemy  in  battle.1  Of 
this  military  religion  Christianity  had  been  at  first  the 
extreme  negation.  I have  already  had  occasion  to  observe 
that  it  had  been  one  of  its  earliest  rides  that  no  arms  should 
be  introduced  within  the  church,  and  that  soldiers  returning 
even  from  the  most  righteous  war  should  not  be  admitted  to 
communion  until  after  a period  of  penance  and  purification. 
A powerful  party,  which  counted  among  its  leaders  Clement 
of  Alexandria,  Tertullian,  Oiigen,  Lactantius,  and  Basil, 
maintained  that  all  warfare  was  unlawful  for  those  who  had 
been  converted  ; and  this  opinion  had  its  martyr  in  the  cele- 
brated Maximilianus,  who  suffered  death  under  Diocletian 
solely  because,  having  been  enrolled  as  a soldier,  he  declared 
that  he  was  a Christian,  and  that  therefore  he  could  not 
fight.  The  extent  to  which  tliis  doctrine  was  disseminated 
has  been  suggested  with  much  plausibility  as  one  of  the 
causes  of  the  Diocletian  persecution.2  It  was  the  subject  of 
one  of  the  reproaches  of  Celsus  ; and  Origen,  in  reply,  frankly 
accepted  the  accusation  that  Christianity  was  incompatible 
with  military  service,  though  he  maintained  that  the  prayers 
of  the  Christians  were  more  efficacious  than  the  swords  of 
the  legions.3  At  the  same  time,  there  can  be  no  question 
that  many  Christians,  from  a very  early  date,  did  enlist  in 
the  army,  and  that  they  were  not  cut  off  from  the  Church. 
The  legend  of  the  thundering  legion,  under  Marcus  Aurelius, 
whatever  we  may  think  of  the  pretended  miracle,  attested 
the  fact,  and  it  is  expressly  asserted  by  Tertullian.4  The 


' Dion  Chrysootom,  Or.  ii.  ( Dc  1 ‘ Navigamus  et  nos  vobiscara 
Regno).  et  militamus.’  — Tert.  Apol.  xlii. 

2 Gibbon,  ch.  xvi.  See,  too,  Grotius  l)e  Jure,  i.  cap.  ii. 

8 Origen,  Cels.  lib.  viii. 


FROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE.  219 


first  fury  of  the  Diocletian  persecution  fell  upon  Christian 
soldiers,  and  by  the  time  of  Constantine  the  army  appears 
to  have  become,  in  a great  degree,  Christian.  A Council  of 
Arles,  under  Constantine,  condemned  soldiers  who,  through 
religious  motives,  deserted  their  colours ; and  St.  Augustine 
threw  his  great  influence  into  the  same  scale.  But  even 
where  the  calling  was  not  regarded  as  sinful,  it  was  strongly 
discouraged.  The  ideal  or  type  of  supreme  excellence  con- 
ceived by  the  imagination  of  the  Pagan  world  and  to  which 
all  their  purest  moral  enthusiasm  naturally  aspired,  was  tho 
patriot  and  soldier.  The  ideal  of  the  Catholic  legends  was 
the  ascetic,  whose  first  duty  was  to  abandon  all  secular 
feelings  and  ties.  In  most  family  circles  the  conflict  between 
the  two  principles  appeared,  and  in  the  moral  atmosphere  of 
the  fourth  and  fifth  centuries  it  was  almost  certain  that 
every  young  man  who  was  animated  by  any  pure  or  genuine 
enthusiasm  would  turn  from  the  army  to  the  monks.  St. 
Martin,  St.  Ferreol,  St.  Tarrachus,  and  St.  Yietricius,  were 
among  those  who  through  religious  motives  abandoned  the 
army.1  When  TJlphilas  translated  the  Bible  into  Gothic,  he 
is  said  to  have  excepted  the  four  books  of  Kings,  through 
fear  that  they  might  encourage  the  martial  disposition  of  the 
barbarians.2 

The  first  influence  that  contributed  to  bring  the  military 
profession  into  friendly  connection  with  religion  was  the 
received  doctrine  concerning  the  Providential  government 
of  affairs.  It  was  generally  taught  that  all  national  cata- 
strophes were  penal  inflictions,  resulting,  for  the  most  part, 
from  the  vices  or  the  religious  errors  of  the  leading  men,  and 
that  temporal  prosperity  was  the  reward  of  orthodoxy  and 


1 See  an  admirable  dissertation  subject  is  frequently  referred  to  by 
on  tlie  opinions  of  the  early  Chris-  Barbeyrac,  Morale  dcs  Peres,  and 
tians  about  military  service,  in  Lo  Grotius,  De  Jure,  lib.  i.  cap.  ii. 
lilant,  Inscriptions  chretiennes  de  la  2 Philostorgius,  ii.  5. 

Gaula , tome  i.  pp.  81-87.  The 


250 


HISTORY  OP  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


virtue.  A great  battle,  on  the  issue  of  which  the  fortunes  of 
a people  or  of  a monarch  depended,  was  therefore  supposed 
to  be  the  special  occasion  of  Providential  interposition,  and 
the  hope  of  obtaining  military  success  became  one  of  the 
most  frequent  motives  of  conversion.  Tho  conversion  of 
Constantine  was  professedly,  and  the  conversion  of  Clovis 
was  perhaps  really,  due  to  the  persuasion  that  the  Divine 
interposition  had  in  a critical  moment  given  them  tho 
victory ; and  I have  already  noticed  how  large  a part  must 
be  assigned  to  this  order  of  ideas  in  facilitating  the  progress 
of  Christianity  among  the  barbarians.  When  a cross  was 
said  to  have  appeared  miraculously  to  Constantine,  with  an 
inscription  announcing  the  victory  of  the  Milvian  bridge ; 
when  the  same  holy  sign,  adorned  with  the  sacred  mono- 
gram, was  carried  in  the  forefront  of  the  Roman  armies ; 
when  the  nails  of  the  cross,  which  Helena  had  brought 
from  Jerusalem,  were  converted  by  the  emperor  into  a 
helmet,  and  into  bits  for  his  war-horse,  it  was  evident  that 
a great  change  was  passing  over  the  once  pacific  spirit  of  the 
Church.1 

Many  circumstances  conspired  to  accelerate  it.  Northern 
tribes,  who  had  been  taught  that  the  gates  of  the  Walhalla 
were  ever  open  to  the  warrior  who  presented  himself  stained 
with  the  blood  of  his  vanquished  enemies,  were  converted  to 
Christianity ; but  they  carried  their  old  feelings  into  their 
new  creed.  The  conflict  of  many  races,  and  the  paralysis  of 
all  government  that  followed  the  fall  of  the  Empire,  made 
force  everywhere  dominant,  and  petty  wars  incessant.  The 
military  obligations  attached  to  the  ‘ benefices  ’ which  the 
sovereigns  gave  to  their  leading  chiefs,  connected  the  idea 
of  military  service  with  that  of  rank  still  more  closely  than 
it  had  been  connected  before,  and  rendered  it  doubly  honour- 


1 See  some  excellent  remarks  on  of  Christianity , vol.  ii.  pp.  287 
this  change,  in  Milman’s  History  288. 


FROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE. 


251 


able  in  the  eyes  of  men.  Many  bishops  and  abbots,  partly 
from  the  turbulence  of  their  times  and  characters,  and  partly, 
at  a later  period,  from  their  position  as  great  feudal  lords, 
were  accustomed  to  lead  their  followers  in  battle ; and  this 
custom,  though  prohibited  by  Charlemagne,  may  be  traced 
to  so  late  a period  as  the  battle  of  Agincourt.1 

The  stigma  which  Christianity  had  attached  to  war  was 
thus  gradually  effaced.  At  the  same  time,  the  Church 
remained,  on  the  whole,  a pacific  influence.  War  was 
rather  condoned  than  consecrated,  and,  whatever  might  be 
the  case  with  a few  isolated  prelates,  the  Church  did  nothing 
to  increase  or  encourage  it.  The  transition  from  the  almost 
Quaker  tenets  of  the  primitive  Church  to  the  essentially 
military  Chiistianity  of  the  Crusades  was  chiefly  due  to 
another  cause — to  the  terrors  and  to  the  example  of  Moham- 
medanism. 

This  great  religion,  which  so  long  rivalled  the  influence 
of  Christianity,  had  indeed  spread  the  deepest  and  most 
justifiable  j^ardc  through  Christendom.  Without  any  of 
those  aids  to  the  imagination  which  pictures  and  images 
can  furnish,  without  any  elaborate  sacerdotal  organisation, 
preaching  the  purest  Monotheism  among  ignorant  and  bar- 
barous men,  and  inculcating,  on  the  whole,  an  extremely 
high  and  noble  system  of  morals,  it  spread  with  a rapidity 
and  it  acquired  a hold  over  the  minds  of  its  votaries,  which 
it  is  probable  that  no  other  religion  has  altogether  equalled. 
It  borrowed  from  Christianity  that  doctrine  of  salvation  by 
belief,  which  is  perhaps  the  most  powerful  impulse  that  can 
be  applied  to  the  characters  of  masses  of  men,  and  it  elabo- 
rated so  minutely  the  charms  of  its  sensual  heaven,  and  the 
terrors  of  its  material  hell,  as  to  cause  the  alternative  to 
appeal  with  unrivalled  force  to  the  gross  imaginations  of  the 


' MaLly,  Observations  sur  VHistoire  de  France , i.  6 ; Hallara’s  Middlt 
Ages,  ch.  ii.  part  ii. 


252 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


people.  It  possessed  a book  which,  however  inferior  to  that 
of  the  opposing  religion,  has  nevertheless  been  the  consolation 
and  the  support  of  millions  in  many  ages.  It  taught  a fatalism 
which  in  its  first  age  nerved  its  adherents  with  a matchless 
military  courage,  and  which,  though  in  later  days  it  has 
often  paralysed  their  active  energies,  lias  also  rarely  failed  to 
support  them  under  the  pressure  of  inevitable  calamity. 
But,  above  all,  it  discovered  the  great,  the  fatal  secret  of 
uniting  indissolubly  the  passion  of  the  soldier  with  the 
passion  of  the  devotee.  Making  the  conquest  of  the  infidel 
the  first  of  duties,  and  proposing  heaven  as  the  certain 
reward  of  the  valiant  soldier,  it  created  a blended  enthu- 
siasm that  soon  overpowered  the  divided  counsels  and  the 
voluptuous  governments  of  the  East,  and,  within  a century 
of  the  death  of  Mohammed,  his  followers  had  almost  extirpated 
Christianity  from  its  original  home,  founded  great  mon- 
archies in  Asia  and  Africa,  planted  a noble,  though 
transient  and  exotic,  civilisation  in  Spain,  menaced  the 
capital  of  the  Eastern  empire,  and,  but  for  the  issue  of  a 
single  battle,  they  would  probably  have  extended  their 
sceptre  over  the  energetic  and  progressive  races  of  Central 
Europe.  The  wave  was  broken  by  Charles  Martel,  at  the 
battle  of  Poitiers,  and  it  is  now  useless  to  speculate  what 
might  have  been  the  consequences  had  Mohammedanism 
unfurled  its  triumphant  banner  among  those  Teutonic  tribes 
who  have  so  often  changed  their  creed,  and  on  whom  the 
course  of  civilisation  has  so  largely  depended.  But  one 
great  change  was  in  fact  achieved.  The  spirit  of  Moham- 
medanism slowly  passed  into  Christianity,  and  transformed 
it  into  its  image.  The  spectacle  of  an  essentially  military 
religion  fascinated  men  who  were  at  once  very  warlike  and 
very  superstitious.  The  panic  that  had  palsied  Europe  was  after 
a.  long  interval  succeeded  by  a fierce  reaction  of  resentment. 
Pride  and  religion  conspired  to  urge  the  Christian  warriors 
against  those  who  had  so  often  defeated  the  armies  and 
wasted  the  territory  of  Christendom,  who  had  shorn  the 


FROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE.  253 

empire  of  the  Cross  of  many  of  its  fairest  provinces,  and 
profaned  that  holy  city  which  was  venerated  not  only  for  its 
past  associations,  but  also  for  the  spiritual  blessings  it  could 
still  bestow  upon  the  pilgrim.  The  papal  indulgences  proved 
not  less  efficacious  in  stimulating  the  military  spirit  than  the 
promises  of  Mohammed,  and  for  about  two  centuries  every 
pulpit  in  Christendom  proclaimed  the  duty  of  war  with  the 
unbeliever,  and  represented  the  battle-field  as  the  sure  path 
to  heaven.  The  religious  oiders  which  arose  united  the 
character  of  the  priest  with  that  of  the  warrior,  and  when, 
rt  the  hour  of  sunset,  the  soldier  knelt  down  to  pray  before 
nis  cross,  that  cross  was  the  handle  of  his  sword. 

It  would  be  impossible  to  conceive  a more  complete 
transformation  than  Christianity  had  thus  undergone,  and  it 
is  melancholy  to  contrast  with  its  aspect  during  the  crusades 
the  impression  it  had  once  most  justly  made  upon  the  world, 
as  the  spirit  of  gentleness  and  of  peace  encountering  the 
■spirit  of  violence  and  war.  Among  the  many  curious  habits 
of  the  Pagan  Irish,  one  of  the  most  significant  was  that  of 
perpendicular  burial.  W ith  a feeling  something  like  that 
which  induced  Vespasian  to  declare  that  a Roman  emperor 
should  die  standing,  the  Pagan  warriors  shrank  from  the 
notion  of  being  prostrate  even  in  death,  and  they  appear  to 
have  regarded  this  martial  burial  as  a special  symbol  of 
Paganism.  An  old  Irish  manuscript  tells  how,  when 
Christianity  had  been  introduced  into  Ireland,  a king  of 
Ulster  on  his  deathbed  charged  his  son  never  to  become  a 
Christian,  but  to  be  buried  standing  upright  like  a man 
in  battle,  with  his  face  for  ever  turned  to  the  south,  defying 
the  men  of  Leinster.1  As  late  as  the  sixteenth  century,  it  is 
SMiid  that  in  some  parts  of  Ireland  children  were  baptised  by 


1 Wiikema.n'sAi-tih(eologia  Hibcr-  are  said  to  have  been  leaders  in  a 
« ica,  p.  21.  However,  Giraldus  sanguinary  conflict  about  a church 
Cambrensis  observes  that  the  Irish  near  Coleraine.  See  Reeve's  edi- 
saints  were  peculiarly  vindictive,  tiun  of  Adamuan's  Life  of  St.  Co- 
and  St.  Coluraba  and  St.  Coingall  lu/nba,  pp.  lxxvii.  203, 


254 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


immersion ; but  the  right  arms  of  the  males  were  caiefully 
held  above  the  water,  in  order  that,  not  having  been  dipped 
in  the  sacred  stream,  they  might  strike  the  more  deadly 
blow.1 

It  had  been  boldly  predicted  by  some  of  the  early  Chris- 
iians  that  the  conversion  of  the  world  would  lead  to  the  es- 
tablishment of  perpetual  peace.  In  looking  back,  with  our 
present  experience,  we  are  driven  to  the  melancholy  conclusion 
that,  instead  of  diminishing  the  number  of  wars,  ecclesiastical 
influence  has  actually  and  very  seriously  increased  it.  We  mav 
look  in  vain  for  any  period  since  Constantine,  in  which  the 
clergy,  as  a body,  exerted  themselves  to  repress  the  military 
spirit,  or  to  prevent  or  abridge  a particular  war,  with  an  energy 
at  all  comparable  to  that  which  they  displayed  in  stimulating 
the  fanaticism  of  the  crusaders,  in  producing  the  atrocious 
massacre  of  the  Albigenses,  in  embittering  the  religious  con- 
tests that  followed  the  Reformation.  Private  wars  were,  no 
doubt,  in  some  degree  repressed  by  their-  influence ; for  the 
institution  of  the  ‘ Truce  of  God  ’ was  for  a time  of  much 
value,  and  when,  towards  the  close  of  the  middle  ages,  the 
custom  of  duels  arose,  it  was  strenuously  condemned  by  the 
clergy;  but  we  can  hardly  place  any  great  value  on  their 
exertions  in  this  field,  when  we  remember  that  duels  were 
almost  or  altogether  unknown  to  the  Pagan  world;  that, 
having  arisen  in  a period  of  great  superstition,  the  anathemas 
of  the  Church  were  almost  impotent  to  discourage  them ; and 
that  in  our  own  century  they  are  rapidly  disappearing  before 
the  simple  censure  of  an  industrial  society.  It  is  possible — - 
though  it  would,  I imagine,  be  difficult  to  prove  it — that  the 
mediatorial  office,  so  often  exercised  by  bishops,  may  some- 
times have  prevented  wars ; and  it  is  certain  that  during  the 
period  of  the  religious  wars,  so  much  military  spirit  existed 
in  Europe  that  it  must  necessarily  have  found  a vent,  and 


Campion’s  Historic  of  Ireland  (1571),  book  i.  ch.  ri. 


FROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE. 


255 


tinder  no  circumstances  could  the  period  have  been  one  of 
perfect  peace.  But  when  all  these  qualifications  have  been 
fully  admitted,  the  broad  fact  will  remain,  that,  with  the 
exception  of  Mohammedanism,  no  other  religion  has  done  so 
much  to  produce  war  as  was  done  by  the  religious  teachers  of 
Christendom  during  several  centuries.  The  military  fanati- 
cism evoked  by  the  indulgences  of  the  popes,  by  the  exhorta- 
tions of  the  pulpit,  by  the  religious  importance  attached  to 
the  relics  at  Jerusalem,  and  by  the  prevailing  hatred  of  mis- 
believers, has  scarcely  ever  been  equalled  in  its  intensity,  and 
it  has  caused  the  effusion  of  oceans  of  blood,  and  has  been 
productive  of  incalculable  misery  to  the  world.  Religious 
fanaticism  was  a main  cause  of  the  earlier  wars,  and  an 
important  ingredient  in  the  later  ones.  The  peace  principles, 
that  were  so  common  before  Constantine,  have  found  scarcely 
any  echo  except  from  Erasmus,  the  Anabaptists,  and  the 
Quakers ; 1 and  although  some  very  important  pacific  agencies 
have  arisen  out  of  the  industrial  progress  of  modern  times, 
these  have  been,  for  the  most  part,  wholly  unconnected  with, 
and  have  in  some  cases  been  directly  opposed  to,  theological 
interests. 

But  although  theological  influences  cannot  reasonably  be 
said  to  have  diminished  the  number  of  wars,  they  have  had  a 
very  real  and  beneficial  effect  in  diminishing  their  atrocity. 
On  few  subjects  have  the  moral  opinions  of  different  ages 
exhibited  so  marked  a v illation  as  in  their  judgments  of 
what  punishment  may  justly  be  imposed  on  a conquered 
enemy,  and  these  variations  have  often  been  cited  as  an 
argument  against  those  who  believe  in  the  existence  of 
natural  moral  perceptions.  To  those,  however,  who  accept 


1 It  seems  curious  to  find  in  so  ut  in  barbaros  et  moribus  aut  reli • 
calm  and  unfanatieal  a writer  as  ginne  prorsum  a nobis  abhorrentes.’ 
Justus  Lipsius  the  following  pas-  — Politicorum  sive  Ciuilis  Doctrins 
sage:  ‘Jam  et  invasio  qusedam  libri  (Paris,  1.594),  lib.  iv.  ch.  ii, 
legitime  videtur  etiam  sine  injuria,  cap.  iv. 


258 


HISTORY  OP  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


that  doctrine,  with  the  limitations  that  have  been  stated  in  the 
first  chapter,  they  can  cause  no  perplexity.  In  the  first  dawning 
of  the  human  intelligence  (as  I have  said)  the  notion  of  duty, 
as  distinguished  from  that  of  interest,  appears,  and  the  mind, 
in  reviewing  the  various  emotions  by  which  it  is  influenced, 
recognises  the  unselfish  and  benevolent  motives  as  essentially 
and  genetically  superior  to  the  selfish  and  the  cruel.  But  it 
is  the  general  condition  of  society  alone  that  determines  the 
standard  of  benevolence — the  classes  towards  which  every 
good  man  will  exercise  it.  At  first,  the  range  of  duty  is  the 
family,  the  tribe,  the  state,  the  confederation.  Within  these 
limits  every  man  feels  himself  under  moral  obligations  to 
those  about  him ; but  he  regards  the  outer  world  as  we 
regard  wild  animals,  as  beings  upon  whom  he  may  justifiably 
prey.  Hence,  we  may  explain  the  curious  fact  that  the  terms 
brigand  or  corsair  conveyed  in  the  early  stages  of  society  no 
notion  of  moral  guilt.1  Such  men  were  looked  upon  simply 
as  we  look  upon  huntsmen,  and  if  they  displayed  courage  and 
skill  in  their  pursuit,  they  were  deemed  fit  subjects  for 
admiration.  Even  in  the  writings  of  the  most  enlightened 
philosophers  of  Greece,  war  with  barbarians  is  represented  as 
a form  of  chase,  and  the  simple  desire  of  obtaining  the  bar- 
barians as  slaves  was  considered  a sufficient  reason  for  invad- 
ing them.  The  right  of  the  conqueror  to  kill  his  captives 


1 1 Con  l’occasione  di  queste  cose 
Piutareo  nel  Teseo  dice  che  gli  eroi 
6i  recavano  a grande  onore  e si  re- 
putavano  in  pregio  d'armi  con  l’esser 
chiamati  ladroni ; siccome  a’  tempi 
barbari  ritornati  quello  di  Corsale 
era  titolo  riputato  di  signoria ; 
d'intorno  a’  quali  tempi  venuto  So- 
lone,  si  dice  aver  permesso  nelle 
Due  leggi  le  societa  per  cagion  di 
prede ; tanto  Solone  ben  intese 
questa  nosti-a  compiuta  Umanita, 
nella  quale  costoro  non  godono  del 
diritto  natural  delle  genti  Ma 


quel  che  fa  piu.  maraviglia  6 che 
Platone  ed  Aristot.ile  posero  il  la- 
droneccio  fralle  spezie  della  caccia 
e con  tali  e tanti  filosofi  d’una  gente 
umanissima  convengono  con  la  loro 
barbarie  i Germani  antichi ; appo 
i quali  al  referire  di  Cesare  i ladro- 
necci  non  solo  non  eran  infami,  ma 
si  tenevano  tra  gli  esereizi  della  vi  rtu 
siccome  tra  quelli  che  per  costume 
non  applicando  ad  arte  alcuna  cosi 
fuggivano  1’  ozio.’ — Vico,  Sciensa 
Nuova,  ii.  6.  See,  too,  Whewell’sf 
Elements  of  Morality,  book  vi  eh.  it 


FROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE. 


257 


was  generally  recognised,  nor  was  it  at  first  restricted  by  any 
considerations  of  age  or  sex.  Several  instances  are  recorded 
of  Greek  and  other  cities  being  deliberately  destroyed  by 
Greeks  or  by  Romans,  and  the  entire  populations  ruthlessly 
massacred.1  The  whole  career  of  the  early  republic  of  Rome, 
though  much  idealised  and  transfigured  by  later  historians, 
was  probably  governed  by  these  principles.2  The  normal 
fate  of  the  captive,  which,  among  barbarians,  had  been  death, 
was,  in  civilised  antiquity,  slavery ; but  many  thousands 
were  condemned  to  the  gladiatorial  shows,  and  the  van- 
quished general  was  commonly  slain  in  the  Mamertine 
prison,  while  his  conqueror  ascended  in  triumph  to  the 
Capitol. 

A few  traces  of  a more  humane  spirit  may,  it  is  true,  be 
discovered.  Plato  had  advocated  the  liberation  of  all  Greek 
prisoners  upon  payment  of  a fixed  ransom,3  and  the  Spartan 
general  Callicratidas  had  nobly  acted  upon  this  principle;4 
but  his  example  never  appears  to  have  been  generally  fol- 
lowed. In  Rome,  the  notion  of  international  obligation  was 


1 The  ancient  right  of  war  is 
fully  discussed  by  Grotius,  Be  Jure, 
lib.  iii.  See,  especially,  the  horri- 
ble catalogue  of  tragedies  in  cap.  4. 
The  military  feeling  that  regards 
capture  ns  disgraceful,  bad  proba 
bly  some,  though  only  a very  sub- 
ordinate, influence  in  producing 
cruelty  to  the  prisoners. 

2 ‘Le  jour  ou  Athenes  decr&ta 

quo  tous  les  Mityleniens,  sans  dis- 

tinction de  sexe  ni  d’age,  seraient 
extermines,  elle  ne  croyait  pas  de- 
passer son  droit;  quand  le  lende- 
main  clle  revint  sur  son  decret  et 
se  contenta  do  mettre  a mort  mille 
citoyens  et  de  confisquer  toutes  les 
terres,  elle  se  erut  humaine  et  in- 
dulgente.  Apres  la  prise  de  Platee 
les  hommes  furent  ^gorges,  les 
femmes  vendues,  et  personne  n’ac- 


eusa  les  vainqueurs  d'avoir  vide  le 

droit C’est  en  vertu  de  co 

droit  de  la  guerre  que  home  a 
dendu  la  solitude  autour  d’elle  ; du 
territoire  ou  les  Volsques  avaient 
vingt-trois  cites  elle  a fait  les  marais 
pontins;  les  cinquante-trois  villes 
du  Latium  out  disparu ; dans  lo 
Samnium  on  put.  longtemps  recon- 
naitre  les  lieux  ou  les  armees  ro- 
maines  avaient  passe,  moins  aux 
vestiges  de  lours  camps  qu’a  In 
solitude  qui  regnait  aux  environs.’ 
— Fustel  de  Coulanges,  La  CM 
antique,  pp.  263-264, 

3 Plato,  Republic, lib.  v. ; Boain, 
Bepublique,  liv.  i.  cap.  5. 

1 Grete,  Hist,  of  Greece,  vol.viii. 
p.  224.  Agesilaus  was  also  very 
humane  to  captives.  — Ibid,  pa 
365-6. 


258 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


very  strongly  felt.  No  war  was  considered  just  which  had 
not  been  officially  declared  ; and  even  in  the  case  of  wars 
with  barbarians,  the  Roman  historians  often  discuss  the  suffi- 
ciency or  insufficiency  of  the  motives,  with  a conscientious 
geveritya  modem  historian  could  hardly  surpass,1  The  later 
t Ireok  and  Latin  writings  occasionally  contain  maxims  which 
exhibit  a considerable  progress  in  this  sphere.  The  solo 
legitimate  object  of  war,  both  Cicero  and  Sallust  declared  to 
be  an  assured  peace.  That  war,  according  to  Tacitus,  ends 
well  which  ends  with  a pardon.  Pliny  refused  to  apply  the 
epithet  great  to  Caesar,  on  account  of  the  torrents  of  human 
blood  he  had  shed.  Two  Roman  conquerors2  are  credited 
with  the  saying  that  it  is  better  to  save  the  life  of  one  citizen 
than  to  destroy  a thousand  enemies.  Marcus  Aurelius  mourn- 
fully assimilated  the  career  of  a conqueror  to  that  of  a simple 
robber.  Nations  or  armies  which  voluntarily  submitted  to 
Rome  were  habitually  treated  with  great  leniency,  and 
numerous  acts  of  individual  magnanimity  are  recorded.  The 
violation  of  the  chastity  of  conquered  women  by  soldiers  in 
a siege  was  denounced  as  a rai’e  and  atrocious  crime.3  The 
extreme  atrocities  of  ancient  war  appear  at  last  to  have  been 
practically,  though  not  legally,  restricted  to  two  classes.4 
Cities  where  Roman  ambassadors  had  been  insulted,  or 
where  some  special  act  of  ill  faith  or  cruelty  had  taken  place, 
were  razed  to  the  ground,  and  then’  populations  massacred  or 
delivered  into  slavery.  Barbarian  prisoners  were  regarded 
almost  as  wild  beasts,  and  sent  in  thousands  to  fill  the  slave 
market  or  to  combat  in  the  arena. 

1 This  appears  continually  in  Officiis  Bdlicis  (Antwerp,  1597), 

Livy,  but  most  of  all,  I think,  in  Grotius,  Dc  Jure.  It  is  remarkable 
the  Gaulish  historian,  Florus.  that  both  Ayala  and  Grotius  hast* 

2 Seipio  and  Trajan.  their  attempts  to  mitigate  the 

1 See  some  very  remarkable  severity  of  war  chiefly  upon  the 

passages  in  Grotius.  Da  Jure  Bell.  writ.iugsandexamplesofthoPagans. 
lib.  iii  cap.  4,  § 19.  The  limits  of  the  right  of  conquerors 

* These  mitigations  are  fully  and  the  just  causes  of  war  are  dis- 
enumerated  by  Ayala,  De  Jure  at  cussed  by  Cicero,  Do  OJfic.  lib.  i. 


PROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE.  259 


The  changes  Christianity  effected  in  the  rights  of  war 
were  very  important,  and  they  may,  I think,  he  comprised 
under  three  heads.  In  the  first  place,  it  suppressed  the 
gladiatorial  shows,  and  thereby  saved  thousands  of  captives 
from  a bloody  death.  In  the  next  place,  it  steadily  discou- 
raged the  practice  of  enslaving  prisoners,  ransomed  immense 
multitudes  with  charitable  contributions,  and  by  slow  and 
insensible  gradations  proceeded  on  its  path  of  mercy  till  it 
became  a recognised  principle  of  international  law,  that  no 
Christian  prisoners  should  be  reduced  to  slavery.1  In  the 
third  place,  it  had  a more  indirect  but  very  powerful  influ- 
ence by  the  creation  of  a new  warlike  ideal.  The  ideal 
knight  of  the  Crusades  and  of  chivalry,  uniting  all  the  force 
and  fire  of  the  ancient  warrior,  with  something  of  the  tender- 
ness and  humility  of  the  Christian  saint,  sprang  from  the 
conjunction  of  the  two  streams  of  religious  and  of  military 


1 In  England  the  change  seems 
to  have  immediately  followed  con- 
version. ‘ The  evangelical  precepts 
of  peace  and  love,’  says  a very 
learned  historian,  ‘ did  not  put  an 
end  to  war,  they  did  not  put  an  end 
to  aggressive  conquests,  but  they 
distinctly  humanised  the  way  in 
which  war  was  carried  on.  Erorn 
this  time  forth  the  never-ending 
wars  with  the  Welsh  cease  to  be 
wars  of  extermination.  The 
heathen  English  had  been  satisfied 
with  nothing  short  of  the  destruc- 
tion and  expulsion  of  their  enemies; 
the  Christian  English  thought  t 
enough  to  reduce  them  to  political 
subjection.  . . . The  Christian 
AVe:sh  could  now  sit  down  as  sub- 
jects of  the  Christian  Saxon.  The 
Welshman  was  acknowledged  as  a 
man  and  a citizen,  and  was  put 
under  the  protection  of  the  law.’ — 
Freeman’s  Hist,  of  the  Norman 


Conquest,  vol.  i.  pp.  33-31.  Chris- 
tians who  assisted  infidels  in  wars 
were  ipso  facto  excommunicated, 
and  might  therefore  bo  enslaved, 
but  all  others  were  free  from  sla- 
very. ‘Et  quidem  inter  Chris- 
tianos  laudabili  et  antiqua  consue- 
tudine  introduetum  est,  ut  capti 
hinc  inde,  uteunque  justo  bello,  non 
fieront  servi,  sed  liberi  servarentur 
donee  solvant  preeium  redemptio- 
nis.’ — Ayala,  lib.  i.  cap.  5.  ‘This 
rule,  at  least,’  says  Grotius, 
‘ (though  but  a small  matter)  the 
reverence  for  the  Christian  law 
has  enforced,  which  Socrates  vainly 
sought  to  have  established  among 
the  Greeks.’  The  Mohammedans 
also  made  it  a rule  not  to  enslave 
their  co-religionists — Grotius,  De 
Jure,  iii.  7,  § 9.  Pagan  and  bar- 
barian prisoners  were,  however, 
sold  as  slaves  (especially  by  the 
Spaniards)  till  very  recently. 


2G0 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


feeling  j and  although  this  ideal,  like  all  others,  was  a crca« 
tion  of  the  imagination  not  oftm  perfectly  realised  in 
life,  yet  it  remained  the  type  and  model  of  warlike  excel- 
lence, +o  which  many  generations  aspired ; and  its  softening 
influence  may  even  now  he  largely  traced  in  the  character  of 
the  modern  gentleman. 

Together  with  the  gradual  fusion  of  the  military  spirit 
with  Christianity,  we  may  dimly  descry,  in  the  period  before 
Charlemagne,  the  first  stages  of  that  consecration  of  secular 
rank  which  at  a later  period,  in  the  forms  of  chivalry,  the 
divine  right  of  kings,  and  the  reverence  for  aristocracies, 
played  so  large  a part  both  in  moral  and  in  political  history. 

We  have  already  seen  that  the  course  of  events  in  the 
Roman  Empire  had  been  towards  the  continual  aggrandise- 
ment of  the  imperial  power.  The  representative  despotism 
of  Augustus  was  at  last  succeeded  by  the  oriental  despotism 
of  Diocletian.  The  senate  sank  into  a powerless  assembly  of 
imperial  nominees,  and  the  spirit  of  Roman  freedom  wholly 
perished  with  the  extinction  of  Stoicism. 

It  would  probably  be  a needless  refinement  to  seek  any 
deeper  causes  for  this  change  than  may  be  found  in  the  ordi- 
nary principles  of  human  nature.  Despotism  is  the  normal 
and  legitimate  government  of  an  early  society  in  which 
knowledge  has  not  yet  developed  the  powers  of  the  people ; 
but  when  it  is  introduced  into  a civilised  community,  it  is  of 
the  nature  of  a disease,  and  a disease  which,  unless  it  be 
checked,  has  a continual  tendency  to  spread.  When  free 
nations  abdicate  their  political  functions,  they  gradually  lose 
both  the  capacity  and  the  desire  for  freedom.  Political  talent 
and  ambition,  having  no  sphere  for  action,  steadily  decay, 
and  servile,  enervating,  and  vicious  habits  proportionately 
increase.  Nations  are  organic  beings  in  a constant  process 
of  expansion  or  decay,  and  where  they  do  not  exhibit  a pro- 
gress of  liberty  they  usually  exhibit  a progress  of  servitude. 

It  can  hardly  be  asserted  that  Christianity  had  much  m 


FROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE. 


201 


fluence  upon  this  change.  By  accelerating 'in*  some  degree 
that  withdrawal  of  the  virtuous  energies  of  the  people  from 
the  sphere  of  government  which  had  long  been  in  process,  it 
prevented  the  great  improvement  of  morals,  which  it  un- 
doubtedly effected,  from  appearing  perceptibly  in  public 
affairs.  It  taught  a doctrine  of  passive  obedience,  which  its 
disciples  nobly  observed  in  the  worst  periods  of  persecution. 
On  the  other  hand,  the  Christians  emphatically  repudiated 
the  ascription  of  Divine  honours  to  the  sovereign,  and  they 
asserted  with  heroic  constancy  their  independent  worship,  in 
defiance  of  the  law.  After  the  time  of  Constantine,  however, 
their  zeal  became  far  less  pure,  and  sectarian  interests  wholly 
governed  their  principles.  Much  misapplied  learning  has 
been  employed  in  endeavouring  to  extract  from  the  Fathers 
a consistent  doctrine  concerning  the  relations  of  subjects 
to  their  sovereigns ; but  every  impartial  observer  may 
discover  that  the  principle  upon  which  they  acted  was  ex- 
ceedingly simple.  When  a sovereign  was  sufficiently  or- 
thodox hi  his  opinions,  and  sufficiently  zealous  in  patronising 
the  Church  and  in  persecuting  the  heretics,  he  was  extolled 
as  an  angel.  When  his  policy  was  opposed  to  the  Church, 
he  was  represented  as  a daemon.  The  estimate  which  Gregory 
of  Tours  has  given  of  the  character  of  Clovis,  though  far 
more  frank,  is  not  a more  striking  instance  of  moral  perver- 
sion than  the  fulsome  and  indeed  blasphemous  adulation 
which  Eusebius  poured  upon  Constantine — a sovereign  whose 
character  was  at  all  times  of  the  most  mingled  description, 
and  who,  shortly  after  his  conversion,  put  to  a violent  death 
his  son,  his  nephew,  and  his  wife.  If  we  were  to  estimate 
the  attitude  of  ecclesiastics  to  sovereigns  by  the  language  of 
Eusebius,  we  should  suppose  that  they  ascribed  to  them  a 
direct  Divine  inspiration,  and  exalted  the  Imperial  dignity 
to  an  extent  that  was  before  unknown.1  But  when  Julian 

1 The  character  of  Constantine,  Lectures  on  the  Eastern  Church 
and  the  estimate  of  it  in  Eusebius,  (Lcct.  vi.). 
are  well  treated  by  Dean  Stanley, 

49 


262 


HISTORY  OP  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


mounted  the  throne,  the  whole  aspect  of  the  Church  was 
changed.  This  great  and  virtuous,  though  misguided  sove- 
reign, whose  private  life  was  a model  of  purity,  who  carrier! 
to  the  throne  the  manners,  tastes,  and  friendships  of  a philo- 
sophic life,  and  who  proclaimed  and,  with  very  slight  excep- 
tions, acted  with  the  largest  and  most  generous  toleration, 
was  an  enemy  of  the  Church,  and  all  the  vocabulary  of  in- 
vective was  in  consequence  habitually  lavished  upon  him. 
Ecclesiastics  and  laymen  combined  in  insulting  him,  ami 
when,  after  a brief  but  glorious  reign  of  less  than  two  years, 
he  met  an  honourable  death  on  the  battle-field,  neither  the 
disaster  that  had  befallen  the  Roman  arms,  nor  the  present 
dangers  of  the  army,  nor  the  heroic  courage  which  the  fallen 
emperor  had  displayed,  nor  the  majestic  tranquillity  of  his 
end,  nor  the  tears  of  his  faithful  friends,  could  shame  the 
Christian  community  into  the  decency  of  silence.  A peal  of 
brutal  merriment  filled  the  land.  In  Antioch  the  Christians 
assembled  in  the  theatres  and  in  the  churches,  to  celebrate 
with  rejoicing  the  death  which  their  emperor  bad  met  in 
fighting  against  the  enemies  of  his  country.1  A crowd  of 
vindictive  legends  expressed  the  exultation  of  the  Church,2 
and  St.  Gregory  blazianzen  devoted  his  eloquence  to  immor- 
talising it.  His  brother  had  at  one  time  been  a high  official 
in  the  Empire,  and  had  fearlessly  owned  his  Christianity 
under  Julian;  but  that  emperor  not  only  did  not  remove 
him  from  his  post,  but  even  honoured  him  with  his  warm 
friendship.3  The  body  of  Julian  had  been  laid  but  . a short 
time  in  the  grave,  when  St.  Gregory  delivered  two  fierce 
invectives  against  his  memory,  collected  the  grotesque 
calumnies  that  had  been  heaped  upon  his  character,  ex- 
pressed a regret  that  his  remains  had  not  been  flung  after- 
death  into  the  common  sewer,  and  regaled  the  hearers  by  an 

1 Theodoret,  iii.  28.  2me  partie. 

2 Thoy  are  collected  by  Cha-  3 See  St.  Gregory’s  orati  on  vn 

teaubriand,  Etudes  hist.  2m*  disc.  Cesairius. 


EROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE. 


263 


emphatic  assertion  of  the  tortures  that  were  awaiting  him  in 
hell.  Among  the  Pagans  a charge  of  the  gravest  kind  was 
brought  against  the  Christians.  Ttwas  said  that  Julian  died 
by  the  spear,  not'  of  an  enemy,  but  of  one  of  his  own  Christian 
soldiers.  When  we  remember  that  he  was  at  once  an  em- 
peror and  a general,  that  he  fell  when  bravely  and  confident1^ 
leading  his  army  in  the  field,  and  in  the  critical  moment  of  a 
battle  on  which  the  fortunes  of  the  Empire  largely  depended, 
this  charge,  which  Libanius  has  made,  appears  to  involve  as 
large  an  amount  of  base  treachery  as  any  that  can  be  con- 
ceived. It  was  probably  a perfectly  groundless  calumny ; 
but  the  manner  in  which  it  was  regarded  among  the 
Christians  is  singularly  characteristic.  ‘ Libanius,’  says 
one  of  the  ecclesiastical  historians,  ‘ clearly  states  that 
the  emperor  fell  by  the  hand  of  a Christian ; and  this,  pro- 
bably, was  the  truth.  It  is  not  unlikely  that  some  of  the 
soldiers  who  then  served  in  the  Roman  army  might  have 
conceived  the  idea  of  acting  like  the  ancient  slayers  of 
tyrants  who  exposed  themselves  to  death  in  the  cause  of 
liberty,  and  fought  in  defence  of  their  country,  their  families, 
and  their  friends,  and  whose  names  are  held  in  universal 
admiration.  Still  less  is  he  deserving  of  blame  who,  for  the 
sake  of  God  and  of  religion,  performed  so  bold  a deed.’ 1 

It  may  be  asserted,  I think,  without  exaggeration,  that 
the  complete  subordination  of  all  other  principles  to  their 
theological  interests,  which  characterised  the  ecclesiastics 
under  Julian,  continued  for  many  centuries.  No  language 
of  invective  was  too  extreme  to  be  applied  to  a sovereign 
who  opposed  their  interests  No  language  of  adulation  was  too 
extravagant  for  a sovereign  who  sustained  them.  Of  all  the 
emperors  who  disgraced  the  throne  of  Constantinople,  the 
most  odious  and  ferocious  was  probably  Phocas.  An  obscure 
centurion,  he  rose  by  a military  revolt  to  the  supreme  power, 


Sozomen,  vi.  2. 


2GT 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


and  tlie  Emperor  Maurice,  with  his  family,  fell  into  his  hands. 
He  resolved  to  put  the  captive  emperor  to  death ; hut,  first  of 
all,  he  ordered  his  five  children  to  be  brought  out  and  to 
be  successively  murdered  before  the  eyes  of  their  father,  who 
bore  the  awful  sight  with  a fine  mixture  of  antique  heroism 
and  of  Christian  piety,  murmuring,  as  each  child  fell  beneath 
the  knife  of  the  assassin,  ‘ Thou  ait  just,  0 Lord,  and 
righteous  are  Thy  judgments,’  and  even  interposing,  at  the 
last  moment,  to  reveal  the  heroic  fraud  of  the  nurse  who 
desired  to  save  his  youngest  child  by  substituting  for  it  her 
own.  But  Maurice — who  had  been  a weak  and  avaricious 
rather  than  a vicious  sovereign — had  shown  himself  jealous 
of  the  influence  of  the  Pope,  had  forbidden  the  soldiers, 
during  the  extreme  danger  of  their  country,  deserting  their 
colours  to  enrol  themselves  as  monks,  and  had  even  encour- 
aged the  pretensions  of  the  Archbishop  of  Constantinople  to 
the  title  of  Universal  Bishop  ; and,  in  the  eyes  of  the  Roman 
priests,  the  recollection  of  these  crimes  was  sufficient  to 
excuse  the  most  brutal  of  murders.  In  two  letters,  full  of 
passages  from  Scripture,  and  replete  with  fulsome  and 
blasphemous  flattery,  the  Pope,  St.  Gregory  the  Great,  wrote 
to  congratulate  Phocas  and  his  wife  upon  their  triumph ; he 
called  heaven  and  earth  to  rejoice  over  them  ; he  placed  their 
images  to  be  venerated  in  the  Lateran,  and  he  adroitly  insinu- 
ated that  it  was  impossible  that,  with  them  well-known  piety, 
they  could  Axil  to  be  very  favourable  to  the  See  of  Peter.1 

The  course  of  events  in  relation  to  the  monarchical  powci 
was  for  some  time  different  in  the  East  and  the  West. 
Constautine  had  himself  assumed  more  of  the  pomp  and 


1 Ep.  xiii.  31-39.  In  tho  second  Vestra  Tranquillitas  specialiter 
of  these  letters  (which  is  addressed  commendatam.  Sed  qui  scio  quia 
to  Leontia),  lie  says:  ‘ Rogare  fo  - omniputentem  Doum  diligitis,  non 
titan  delmi  ut  ecelesiam  hea  i debco  potere  quod  sponte  ex  beni  ' 
Petri  apostoli  quae  nunc  usque  nit.ate  vestrae  pietatis  enhibetis.’ 
gravities  iusidiis  laboravit,  haberet 


FROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE. 


205 


manner  of  an  oriental  sovereign  than  any  preceding  emperor, 
and  the  court  of  Constantinople  was  soon  characterised  by  an 
extravagance  of  magnificence  on  the  part  of  the  monarch,  and 
of  adulation  on  the  part  of  the  subjects,  which  has  probably 
never  been  exceeded.1  The  imperial  power  in  the  East 
overshadowed  the  ecclesiastical,  and  the  priests,  notwith- 
standing their  fierce  outbreak  during  the  iconoclastic 
controversy,  and  a few  minor  paroxysms  of  revolt,  gradually 
sank  into  that  contented  subservience  which  has  usually 
characterised  the  Eastern  Church.  In  the  West,  however, 
the  Roman  bishops  were  in  a great  degree  independent  of  tho 
sovereigns,  and  in  some  degree  opposed  to  their  interests. 
The  transfer  of  the  imperial  power  to  Constantinople,  by 
leaving  the  Roman  bishops  the  chief  personages  in  a city 
which  long  association  as  well  as  actual  power  rendered  the 
foremost  in  the  world,  was  one  of  the  great  causes  of  the 
aggrandisement  of  the  Papacy  and  the  Arianism  of  many 
sovereigns,  the  jealousy  which  others  exhibited  of  ecclesias- 
tical encroachments,  and  the  lukewarmness  of  a few  in 
persecuting  heretics,  were  all  causes  of  dissension.  On  the 
severance  of  the  Empire,  the  Western  Church  came  in  contact 
with  rulers  of  another  type.  The  barbarian  kings  were 
little  more  than  military  chiefs,  elected  for  the  most  part  by 
the  people,  surrounded  by  little  or  no  special  sanctity,  and 
maintaining  their  precarious  and  very  restricted  authority  by 
their  courage  or  their  skill.  A few  feebly  imitated  the  pomp 
of  the  Roman  emperors,  but  their  claims  had  no  great 
weight  with  the  world.  The  aureole  which  the  genius  of 
Theodoric  cast  around  his  throne  passed  away  upon  his  death, 
and  the  Arianism  of  that  great  sovereign  sufficiently  debarred 
him  from  the  sympathies  of  the  Chiu-ch.  In  Caul,  under  a 
few  bold  and  unscrupulous  men,  the  Merovingian  dvnastv 
emerged  from  a host  of  petty  kings,  and  consolidated  the 


• See  the  graphic  description  in  Gibbon,  ch.  liii, 


2GG 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


whole  country  into  one  kingdom  ; but  after  a short  peiiod  it 
degenerated,  the  kings  became  mere  puppets  in  the  hands  of 
the  mayors  of  the  palace,  and  these  latter,  whose  office 
had  become  hereditary,  who  were  the  chiefs  of  the  great 
landed  proprietors,  and  who  had  acquired  by  their  position 
a personal  ascendancy  over  the  sovereigns,  became  the 
virtual  rulers  of  the  nation. 

It  was  out  of  these  somewhat  unpromising  conditions 
that  the  mediaeval  doctrine  of  the  Divine  right  of  kings,  and 
the  general  reverence  for  rank,  that  formed  the  essence  of 
chivalry,  were  slowly  evolved.  Political  and  moral  causes 
conspired  in  producing  them.  The  chief  political  causes — 
which  are  well  known — may  be  summed  up  in  a few  words. 

When  Leo  the  Isaurian  attempted,  in  the  eighth  century, 
to  repress  the  worship  of  images,  the  resistance  which  he  met 
at  Constantinople,  though  violent,  was  speedily  allayed  ; but 
the  Pope,  assuming  a far  higher  position  than  any  Byzantine 
ecclesiastic  could  attain,  boldly  excommunicated  the  emperor, 
and  led  a revolt  against  his  authority,  which  resulted  in  the 
virtual  independence  of  Italy.  His  position  was  at  this  time 
singularly  grand.  He  represented  a religious  cause  to  which 
the  great  mass  of  the  Christian  world  were  passionately 
attached.  He  was  venerated  as  the  emancipator  of  Italy. 
He  exhibited  in  the  hour  of  Iris  triumph  a moderation 
which  conciliated  many  enemies,  and  prevented  the  anarchy 
that  might  naturally  have  been  expected.  He  presided,  at 
the  same  time,  over  a vast  monastic  organisation,  which 
ramified  over  all  Christendom,  propagated  his  authority 
among  many  barbarous  nations,  and,  by  its  special  attachment 
to  the  Papacy,  as  distinguished  from  the  Episcopacy,  contri- 
buted very  much  to  transform  Christianity  into  a spiritual 
despotism.  One  great  danger,  however,  still  menaced  his 
power.  The  barbarous  Lombards  were  continually  invading 
Iris  territory,  and  threatening  the  independence  of  Pome. 
The  Lombard  monarch,  Luitprand,  had  quailed  in  the  very 


FROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE.  267 


hour  of  liis  triumph  before  the  menace  of  eternal  torture ; 
but  his  successor,  Astolphus,  was  proof  against  every  fear, 
and  it  seemed  as  though  the  Papal  city  must  have  inevitably 
succumbed  before  his  arms. 

In  their  complete  military  impotence,  the  Popes  looked 
abroad  for  some  foreign  succour,  and  they  naturally  turned 
to  the  Franks,  whose  martial  tastes  and  triumphs  were 
universally  renowned.  Charles  Martel,  though  simply  a 
mayor  of  the  palace,  had  saved  Europe  from  the  Mohamme- 
dans, and  the  Pope  expected  that  he  would  unsheath  his 
sword  for  the  defence  of  the  Vatican.  Charles,  however,  was 
deaf  to  all  entreaties  ; and,  although  he  had  done  more  than 
any  ruler  since  Constantine  for  the  Church,  his  attention 
seems  to  have  been  engrossed  by  the  interests  of  his  own 
country,  and  he  was  much  alienated  from  the  sympathies  of 
the  clergy.  An  ancient  legend  tells  how  a saint  saw  his  soul 
carried  by  daemons  into  hell,  because  lie  had  secularised 
Church  property,  and  a more  modern  historian1  has  ascribed 
his  death  to  his  having  hesitated  to  defend  the  Pope.  Ilis 
son,  Pepin,  however,  actuated  probably  in  different  degrees 
by  personal  ambition,  a desire  for  military  adventure,  and 
religious  zeal,  listened  readily  to  the  prayer  of  the  Pope,  and 
a compact  was  entered  into  between  the  parties,  which  proved 
one  of  the  most  important  events  in  history.  Pepin  agreed 
to  secure  the  Pope  from  the  danger  by  which  he  was 
threatened.  The  Pope  agreed  to  give  his  religious  sanction 
to  the  ambition  of  Pepin,  who  designed  to  depose  the 
Merovingian  dynasty,  and  to  become  in  name,  as  he  was 
already  in  fact,  the  sovereign  of  Gaul. 

It  is  not  necessary  for  me  to  recount  at  length  the  details 
of  these  negotiations,  which  are  described  by  many  historians. 
It  is  sufficient  to  say,  that  the  compact  was  religiously 
jbeerved,  Pepin  made  two  expeditions  to  Italy,  and  com 


1 Baronius. 


2G8 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


pletely  shattered  the  power  of  the  Lombards,  wresting  from 
them  the  rich  exarchate  of  Ravenna,  which  he  ceded  to  the 
Rope,  who  still  retained  his  nominal  allegiance  to  the 
1 ivzaniine  emperor,  but  who  became,  by  this  donation,  foi 
the  first  time  avowedly  an  independent  temporal  prince. 
( )n  the  other  hand,  the  deposition  of  Cliilderic  was  peaceably 
effected ; the  last  of  the  Merovingians  was  immured  in  a 
monastery,  and  the  Carlovingian  dynasty  ascended  the  throne 
under  the  special  benediction  of  the  Pope,  who  performed  on 
t he  occasion  the  ceremony  of  consecration,  which  had  not 
previously  been  in  general  use,1  placed  the  crown  with  his 
own  hands  on  the  head  of  Pepin,  and  delivered  a solemn 
anathema  against  all  who  should  rebel  against  the  new  king 
or  against  his  successors. 

The  extreme  importance  of  these  events  was  probably  not 
fully  realised  by  any  of  the  parties  concerned  in  them.  It 
was  evident,  indeed,  that  the  Pope  had  been  freed  from  a 
pressing  danger,  and  had  accpiired  a great  accession  of 
temporal  power,  and  also  that  a new  dynasty  had  arisen  in 
Gaul  under  circumstances  that  were  singularly  favourable 
and  imposing.  But,  much  more  important  than  these  facts 
was  the  permanent  consecration  of  the  royal  authority  that 
had  been  effected.  The  Pope  had  successfully  asserted  his 
power  of  deposing  and  elevating  kings,  and  had  thus  acquired 
a position  which  influenced  the  whole  subsequent  course  of 
European  history.  The  monarch,  if  he  had  become  in  some 
degree  subservient  to  the  priest,  had  become  in  a great 
degree  independent  of  his  people;  the  Divine  origin  of  his 
power  was  regarded  as  a dogma  of  religion,  and  a sanctity 
surrounded  him  which  immeasurably  aggrandised  his  power. 
The  ascription,  by  the  Pagans,  of  divinity  to  kings  had  had 
no  appreciable  effect  in  increasing  their  authority  or  restrain- 
ing the  limits  of  criticism  or  of  rebellion.  The  ascription  of 


Mably,  ii.  I ; Gibbon,  ch.  xlix. 


PROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE. 


269 


a Divine  right  to  kings,  independent  of  the  wishes  of  the 
people,  has  been  one  of  the  most  enduring  and  most  potent  of 
superstitions,  and  it  has  even  now  not  wholly  vanished  from 
the  world.1 

Mere  isolated  political  events  have,  however,  rarely  or 
never  this  profound  influence,  unless  they  have  been  preceded 
and  prepared  by  other  agencies.  The  first  predisposing 
cause  of  the  ready  reception  of  the  doctrine  of  the  Divine 
character  of  authority,  may  probably  be  found  in  the  pro- 
minence of  the  monastic  system.  I have  already  observed 
that  this  system  represents  in  its  extreme  form  that  exalt- 
ation of  the  virtues  of  humility  and  of  obedience  which 
so  broadly  distinguishes  the  Christian  from  the  Pagan  type 
of  excellence.  I have  also  noticed  that,  owing  to  the  con- 
currence of  many  causes,  it  had  acquired  such  dimensions 
and  influence  as  to  supply  the  guiding  ideal  of  the  Christian 
world.  Controlling  or  monopolising  all  education  and 
literature,  furnishing  most  of  the  legislators  and  many  of  the 
statesmen  of  the  age,  attracting  to  themselves  all  moral 
enthusiasm  and  most  intellectual  ability,  the  monks  soon  left 
their  impress  on  the  character  of  nations.  Habits  of 
obedience  and  dispositions  of  humility  were  diffused,  revered, 
and  idealised,  and  a Church  which  rested  mainly  on  tradition 
fostered  a deep  sense  of  the  sanctity  of  antiquity,  and  a 
natural  disposition  to  observe  traditional  customs.  In  this 

1 There  are  some  good  remarks  thee  thou  listenest  to  us  ; but.  if  it 
upon  the  way  in  which,  among  the  please  thee  not,  who  is  to  condemn 
tree  Franks,  the  bishops  taught  the  thee  save  lie  who  has  proclaimed 
duty  of  passive  obedience,  ir.  Himself  Justice.’  — Greg.  Tur. 
Mably,  Ohs.  sur  I'Histoire  de  v.  19.  On  the  other  hand, 
France,  livrei.  ch.  iii.  Gregory  of  Hincmar,  Archbishop  of  Jtheims, 
Tours,  in  his  address  to  Chilperic  strongly  asserted  the  obligation  of 
had  said:  ‘If  any  of  us,  0 king  kings  to  observe  the  law,  and  de- 
tian.'gress  t he  boundaries  of  jus-  nounced  as  diabolical  the  doctrine 
tice,  thou  art  at  hand  to  correct  that  they  are  subject  to  none  but 
us;  but  if  thou  shouldest  exceed  God.  (Allen,  On  the  Royal  Prc 
tliem,  who  is  to  condemn  thee?  royative  (1849),  pp.  171  - 1 72.) 

We  address  thee,  and  if  it  please 


270 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


manner  a tone  of  feeling  was  gradually  formed  tliat  assimi- 
lated  with  the  i ronarchical  and  aristocratical  institutions  of 
feudalism,  which  nourished  chiefly  because  they  corresponded 
with  the  moral  feelings  of  the  time. 

In  the  next  place,  a series  of  social  and  political  causes 
diminished  the  personal  independence  for  which  the  bar- 
barians had  been  noted.  The  king  had  at  first  been,  not  the 
sovereign  of  a country,  but  the  chief  of  a tribe.1  Gradually, 
however,  with  more  settled  habits,  the  sovereignty  assumed  a 
territorial  character,  and  we  may  soon  discover  the  rudiments 
of  a territorial  aristocracy.  The  kings  gave  their  leading 
chiefs  portions  of  conquered  land  or  of  the  royal  domains, 
under  the  name  of  benefices.  The  obligation  of  military 
service  was  attached  to  these  benefices,  and  by  slow  and 
perhaps  insensible  stages,  each  of  which  has  been  the  subject 
of  fierce  controversy,  they  were  made  irrevocable,  and 
ultimately  hereditary.  While  society  was  still  disorganised, 
small  landlords  purchased  the  protection  of  the  Church,  or  of 
some  important  chief,  by  surrendering  their  estates,  which 
they  received  back  as  tenants,  subject  to  the  condition  of  the 
payment  of  rent,  or  of  military  service.  Others,  without 
making  such  surrender,  placed  themselves  under  the  care  of 
a neighbouring  lord,  and  offered,  in  return,  homage  or  mili- 
tary aid.  At  the  same  time,  through  causes  to  which  I havo 
already  adverted,  the  free  peasants  for  the  most  part  sank 
into  serfs,  subject  to  and  protected  by  the  landowners.  In 
this  manner  a hierarchy  of  ranks  was  gradually  formed,  of 
which  the  sovereign  was  the  apex  and  the  serf  the  basis. 
The  complete  legal  organisation  of  this  hierarchy  belongs  to 


1 The  exact  degree  of  the  autho-  l' Hist,  de  France  { lot.  9),  Guizct’s 
rit.y  of  the  barbarian  kings,  and  t he  Hist,  dc  la  Civilisation ; Mably, 
different  stages  by  which  their  Observ.  sur  VHist.  de  France ; Free- 
power  was  increased,  are  matters  man’s  Hist,  of  the  Norman  Can- 
.if  great  controversy.  The  reader  quest,  x ol.  i, 
aiay  consult  Thierry’s  Leitrcs  sur 


FROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE. 


271 


the  period  of  feudalism,  which  is  not  within  the  scope  of  the 
present  volume  ; but  the  chief  elements  of  feudalism  existed 
before  Charlemagne,  and  the  moral  results  flowing  from  them 
may  he  already  discerned.  Each  rank,  except  the  very 
highest,  was  continually  brought  into  contact  with  a superior, 
and  a feeling  of  constant  dependence  and  subordination  was 
accordingly  fostered.  To  the  serf,  who  depended  for  all 
things  upon  the  neighbouring  noble,  to  the  noble,  who  held 
all  his  dignities  on  the  condition  of  frequent  military  service 
under  his  sovereign,  the  idea  of  secular  rank  became  indis- 
solubly connected  with  that  of  supreme  greatness. 

It  will  appear  evident,  from  the  foregoing  observations, 
that  in  the  period  before  Charlemagne  the  moral  and  poli- 
tical causes  were  already  in  action,  which  at  a much  later 
period  produced  the  organisation  of  chivalry — an  organisa- 
tion winch  was  founded  on  the  combination  and  the  glorifi- 
cation of  secular  rank  and  military  prowess.  But,  in  order 
that  the  tendencies  I have  described  should  acquire  then-  full 
force,  it  was  necessary  that  they  should  be  represented  or 
illustrated  in  some  great  personage,  who,  by  the  splendour 
and  the  beauty  of  his  career,  could  fascinate  the  imaginations 
of  men.  It  is  much  easier  to  govern  great  masses  of  men 
through  their  imagination  than  through  their  reason.  Moral 
principles  rarely  act  powerfully  upon  the  world,  except  by 
way  of  example  or  ideals.  When  the  course  of  events  has 
been  to  glorify  the  ascetic  or  monarchical  or  military  spirit,  a 
great  saint,  or  sovereign,  or  soldier  will  arise,  who  will  con- 
centrate in  one  dazzling  focus  the  blind  tendencies  of  his 
time,  kindle  the  enthusiasm  and  fascinate  the  imagination  of 
the  people.  But  for  the  prevailing  tendency,  the  great  man 
would  not  have  arisen,  or  would  not  have  exercised  his  great 
influence.  But  for  the  great  man,  whose  career  appealed 
vividly  to  the  imagination,  the  prevailing  tendency  would 
never  have  acquired  its  full  intensity. 

Tibs  typical  figure  appeared  in  Charlemagne,  whose 


272 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


colossal  form  towers  with  a majestic  grandeur  both  in  history 
and  in  romance.  Of  all  the  great  rulers  of  men,  there  has 
probably  been  no  other  who  was  so  truly  many-sided,  whoso 
influence  pervaded  so  completely  all  the  religious,  intellectual, 
and  political  modes  of  thought  existing  in  his  time.  Rising 
in  one  of  the  darkest  periods  of  European  history,  this  great 
emperor  resuscitated,  with  a brief  but  dazzling  splendour,  the 
faded  glories  of  the  Empire  of  the  West,  conducted,  for  the 
most  part  in  person,  numerous  expeditions  against  the  bar- 
barous nations  around  him,  promulgated  a vast  system  of 
legislation,  reformed  the  discipline  of  every  order  of  the 
Church,  and  reduced  all  classes  of  the  clergy  to  subservience 
to  his  will,  while,  by  legalising  tithes,  he  greatly  increased 
their  material  prosperity.  He  at  the  same  time  contributed, 
in  a measure,  to  check  the  intellectual  decadence  by  founding 
schools  and  libraries,  and  drawing  around  him  all  the  scat- 
tered learning  of  Europe.  He  reformed  the  coinage,  extended 
commerce,  influenced  religious  controversies,  and  convoked 
•great  legislative  assemblies,  which  ultimately  contributed 
largely  to  the  organisation  of  feudalism.  In  all  these 
spheres  the  traces  of  his  vast,  organising,  and  far-seeing 
genius  may  he  detected,  and  the  influence  which  he  exercised 
over  the  imaginations  of  men  is  shown  by  the  numerous 
legends  of  which  lie  is  the  hero.  In  the  preceding  ages  the 
supremo  ideal  had  been  the  ascetic.  When  the  popular 
imagination  embodied  in  legends  its  conception  of  humanity 
hi  its  noblest  and  most  attractive  form,  it  instinctively 
painted  some  hermit-saint,  of  many  penances  and  many 
miracles.  In  the  Romances  of  Charlemagne  and  of  Arthm' 
we  may  trace  the  dawning  of  a new  type  of  greatness.  The 
hero  of  tho  imagination  of  Europe  was  no  longer  a hermit, 
but  a king,  a warrior,  a knight.  The  long  train  of  influences 
I I uve  reviewed,  culminating  in  Charlemagne,  had  done 
their  work.  The  age  of  the  ascetics  began  to  fade.  The  age 
of  the  crusades  and  of  chivalry  succeeded  it. 


FROM  CONSTANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE. 


273 


lb  is  curious  to  observe  the  manner  in  which,  under  the 
influence  of  the  prevailing  tendency,  the  career  of  Charle- 
magne was  transfigured  by  the  popular  imagination.  Ilia 
military  enterprises  had  been  chiefly  directed  against  the 
Saxons,  against  whom  he  had  made  not  less  than  thirty-two 
expeditions.  With  the  Mohammedans  he  had  but  little 
contact.  It  was  Charles  Martel,  not  his  grandson,  who,  by 
the  great  battle  of  Poitiers,  had  checked  their  career.  Charle- 
magne made,  in  person,  but  a single  expedition  against  them 
in  Spain,  and  that  expedition  was  on  a small  scale,  and  was 
disastrous  in  its  issue.  But  in  the  Carlovingian  romances, 
which  arose  at  a time  when  the  enthusiasm  of  the  Crusades 
was  permeating  Christendom,  events  were  represented  in  a 
wholly  different  light.  Charles  Martel  has  no  place  among 
the  ideal  combatants  of  the  Church.  He  had  appeared  too 
early,  his  figure  was  not  sufficiently  great  to  fascinate  the 
popular  imagination,  and  by  confiscating  ecclesiastical  pro- 
perty, and  refusing  to  assist  the  Pope  against  the  Lombards, 
he  had  fallen  under  the  ban  of  the  clergy.  Charlemagne,  on 
the  other  hand,  was  represented  as  the  first  and  greatest  of 
the  crusaders.  His  wars  with  the  Saxons  were  scarcely 
noticed.  His  whole  life  was  said  to  have  been  spent  in 
heroic  and  triumphant  combats  with  the  followers  of 
Mohammed.1  Among  the  achievements  attributed  to  him  was 
an  expedition  to  rescue  Nismes  and  Carcassonne  from  their 
grasp,  which  was,  in  fact,  a dim  tradition  of  the  victories  of 
Charles  Martel.2  He  is  even  said  to  have  carried  his  vic- 
torious arms  into  the  heart  of  Palestine,  and  he  is  the  hero 
of  what  are  probably  the  three  earliest  extant  romances  of 
the  Crusades.3  In  fiction,  as  in  history,  his  reign  forms  tho 


1 Fauriel,  Hist,  de  la  Poesic  pr£f.  p.  xxiv.  These  romances 

yrovcnqale,  tome  ii.  p.  252.  were  accounts  of  his  expeditions  to 

2 Ibid,  p.  258.  Spain,  to  Languedoc,  and  to  Pales- 

3 Le  Grand  D’Aussy,  Fabliaux,  tine. 


274 


niSTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


greal  landmark  separating  the  early  period  of  the  middle 
ages  from  the  age  of  military  Christianity. 

On  the  verge  of  this  great  change  I draw  this  history  to 
a close.  In  pursuing  our  long  and  chequered  course,  from 
Augustus  to  Charlemagne,  we  have  seen  the  rise  and  fall  of 
many  types  of  character,  and  of  many  forms  of  enthusiasm. 
W e have  seen  the  influence  of  universal  empire  expanding, 
and  the  influence  of  Greek  civilisation  intensifying,  the 
sympathies  of  Europe.  We  have  surveyed  the  successive 
progress  of  Stoicism,  Platonism,  and  Egyptian  philosophies, 
at  once  reflecting  and  guiding  the  moral  tendencies  of  society. 
We  have  traced  the  course  of  progress  or  retrogression  in 
many  fields  of  social,  political,  and  legislative  life,  have 
watched  the  cradle  of  European  Christianity,  examined  the 
causes  of  its  triumph,  the  difficulties  it  encountered,  and  the 
priceless  blessings  its  philanthropic  spirit  bestowed  upon 
mankind.  We  have  also  pursued  step  by  step  the  mournful 
history  of  its  corruption,  its  asceticism,  and  its  intolerance, 
the  various  transformations  it  produced  or  underwent  when 
the  turbid  waters  of  the  barbarian  invasions  had  inundated 
the  civilisations  of  Europe.  It  remains  for  me,  before  con- 
cluding this  work,  to  investigate  one  class  of  subjects  to 
which  I have,  as  yet,  but  briefly  adverted — to  examine  the 
effects  of  the  changes  I have  described  upon  the  character 
and  position  of  woman,  and  upon  the  grave  moral  question 
concerning  the  relations  of  the  sexes. 


THE  POSITION  OE  WOMEN. 


275 


CHAPTER  Y. 

THE  POSITION  OF  WOMEN. 

In  the  long  series  of  moral  revolutions  that  have  been 
described  in  the  foregoing  chapters,  I have  more  than  once 
had  occasion  to  refer  to  the  position  that  was  assigned  to 
woman  in  the  community,  and  to  the  virtues  and  vices  that 
spring  directly  from  the  relations  of  the  sexes.  I have  not, 
however,  as  yet  discussed  these  questions  with  a fulness  at 
all  corresponding  to  their  historical  importance,  and  I pro- 
pose, in  consequence,  before  concluding  this  volume,  to  devote 
a few  pages  to  their  examination.  Of  all  the  many  questions 
that  are  treated  in  this  work,  there  is  none  which  I approach 
with  so  much  hesitation,  for  there  is  probably  none  which  it 
is  so  difficult  to  treat  with  clearness  and  impartiality,  and  at 
the  same  time  without  exciting  any  scandal  or  offence. 
The  complexity  of  the  problem,  arising  from  the  very  large 
place  which  exceptional  institutions  or  circumstances,  and 
especially  the  influence  of  climate  and  race,  have  had  on  the 
chastity  of  nations,  I have  already  noticed,  and  the  extreme 
delicacy  of  the  matters  with  which  this  branch  of  ethics 
is  connected  must  be  palpable  to  all.  The  first  duty  of  an 
historian,  however,  is  to  truth;  and  it  is  absolutely  impossible 
to  present  a true  picture  of  the  moral  condition  of  different 
age3,  and  to  form  a true  estimate  of  the  moral  effects  ot 
different  religions,  without  adverting  to  the  department  of 
morals,  which  has  exhibited  most  change,  and  has  probably 
exercised  most  influence. 


276 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


Ti  is  natural  that,  in  the  period  when  men  ai ) still  perfect 
barbarians,  when  their  habits  of  life  are  still  nomadic,  and 
when,  war  and  the  chase,  being  their  sole  pursuits,  the 
qualities  that  are  required  in  these  form  their  chief  measure 
of  excellence,  the  inferiority  of  women  to  men  should  bo 
regarded  as  undoubted,  and  their  position  should  be  extremely 
degraded.  In  all  those  qualities  which  are  then  most  prized, 
women  are  indisputably  inferior.  The  social  qualities  in 
which  they  are  especially  fitted  to  excel  have  no  sphere  for 
their  display.  The  ascendancy  of  beauty  is  very  faint,  and, 
even  if  it  were  otherwise,  few  traces  of  female  beauty  could 
survive  the  hardships  of  the  savage  life.  Woman  is  looked 
upon  merely  as  the  slave  of  man,  and  as  the  minister  to 
his  passions.  In  the  first  capacity,  her  life  is  one  of  continual, 
abject,  and  unrequited  toil.  In  the  second  capacity,  she  is 
exposed  to  all  the  violent  revulsions  of  feeling  that  follow, 
among  rude  men,  the  gratification  of  the  animal  passions. 

Even  in  this  early  stage,  however,  we  may  trace  some 
rudiments  of  those  moral  sentiments  which  are  destined  at  a 
later  period  to  expand.  The  institution  of  marriage  exists. 
The  value  of  chastity  is  commonly  in  some  degree  felt,  and 
appears  in  the  indignation  which  is  displayed  against  the 
adulterer.  The  duty  of  restraining  the  passions  is  largely 
recognised  in  the  female,  though  the  males  are  only  re- 
stricted by  the  prohibition  of  adultery. 

The  first  two  steps  which  are  taken  towards  the  elevation 
of  woman  are  probably  the  abandonment  of  the  custom  of 
purchasing  wives,  and  the  construction  of  the  family  on  the 
basis  of  monogamy.  In  the  earliest  periods  of  civilisation,  the 
marriage  contract  was  arranged  between  the  bridegroom  and 
the  father  of  the  bride,  on  the  condition  of  a sum  of  money 
being  paid  by  the  former  to  the  latter.  This  sum,  which 
ii?  known  in  the  laws  of  the  barbarians  as  the  ‘ mundium,’ 1 


Tlie  tSva  of  the  Greeks. 


THE  POSITION  OF  WOMEN. 


277 


was  in  fact  a payment  to  the  father  for  the  cession  of  hia 
daughter,  who  thus  became  the  bought  slave  of  her  husband. 
It  is  one  of  the  most  remarkable  features  of  the  ancient  laws 
of  India,  that  they  forbade  this  gift,  on  the  ground  that  the 
parent  should  not  sell  his  child  ; 1 but  there  can  be  little 
doubt  that  this  sale  was  at  one  time  the  ordinary  type  of 
marriage.  In  the  Jewish  writings  we  find  Jacob  purchasing 
Leali  and  Itacbol  by  certain  services  to  their  father;  and 
this  custom,  which  seems  to  have  been  at  one  time 
general  in  Judea,2  appears  in  the  age  of  Homer  to  have 
been  general  in  Greece.  At  an  early  period,  however,  of 
Greek  history,  the  purchase-money  was  replaced  by  the 
dowry,  or  sum  of  money  paid  by  the  father  of  the  bride  for 
the  use  of  his  daughter;3  and  this,  although  it  passed  into  the 
hands  of  the  husband,  contributed  to  elevate  the  wife,  in  the 
first  place,  by  the  dignity  it  gave  her,  and,  in  the  next  place, 
by  special  laws,  which  both  in  Greece  and  Home  secured  it 
to  her  in  most  cases  of  separation.4  The  wife  thus  possessed 
a guarantee  against  ill-usage  by  her  husband.  She  ceased  to 
l>e  his  slave,  and  became  in  some  degree  a contracting  party. 


1 Legouve,  Histoire  morale,  des 
Femmes , pp.  95-96. 

2 Gen.  xxix.,  xxxiv.  12;  Deut. 
xxii.  29  ; 1 Sum.  xviii.  25. 

3 The  history  of  dowries  is 
briefly  noticed  by  Grote,  Hist,  of 

Greece,  vol.  ii.  pp.  112-113;  and 
more  fully  by  Lord  Kames,  in  the 
admirable  chapter  ‘ On  the  Pro- 
gress of  the  Female  Sex,’  in  his 
Sketches  of  the  History  of  Man,  a 
book  less  read  than  it  deserves  to 
be.  M.  Legouve  has  also  devoted 
b chapter  to  it  in  his  Hist,  morale 
des  Femmes.  See,  too,  Legendre, 
Traite  de  l’ Opinion,  tome  ii.  pp. 
329-330.  We  find  traces  of  the 
dowry,  as  well  as  of  the  eSt/a,  in 
Homer.  Penelope  had  received  a 


dowry  from  Icarus,  her  father. 
M.  Michelet,  in  one  of  those  fanci- 
ful books  which  he  has  recently 
published,  maintains  a view  of  the 
object  of  the  e5ra  which  I do  not 
remember  to  have  seen  elsewhere, 
and  which  I do  not  believe.  Ho 
says  : ‘ Ce  prix  n’est  point  un  achat 
de  la  femme,  mais  une  indemnite 
qui  dMommage  la  famille  du  pfere 
pour  les  enfants  futurs,  qui  ne 
profiteront  pas  a cette famille  mais 
a celle  ou  la  femme  va  entrer.’ — 
La  Femme,  p.  166. 

4  In  Rome,  when  the  separation 
was  due  to  the  misconduct  of  the 
wife,  the  dowry  belonged  to  her 
husband. 


50 


278 


HISTORY  OR  EUROPEAIT  . MORALS. 


Among  the  early  Germans,  a,  different  and  very  remarkable 
custom  existed.  The  bride  did  not  bring  any  dowry  to  her 
husband,  nor  did  the  bridegroom  give  anything  to  the  father 
of  the  bride ; but  he  gave  his  gift  to  the  bride  herself,  on  the 
morning  after  the  first  night  of  marriage,  and  tiffs,  winch 
was  called  the  ‘ Morgengab,’  or  morning  gift,  was  the  origin 
of  the  jointure.1 

Still  more  important  than  the  foregoing  was  the  institu- 
tion of  monogamy,  by  which,  from  its  earliest  days,  the  Greek 
civilisation  proclaimed  its  superiority  to  the  Asiatic  civilisa- 
tions that  had  preceded  it.  We  may  regard  monogamy 
either  in  the  light  of  our  intuitive  moral  sentiment  on  the 
subject  of  purity,  or  in  the  light  of  the  interests  of  society. 
In  its  Oriental  or  polygamous  stage,  marriage  is  regarded 
almost  exclusively,  in  its  lowest  aspect,  as  a gratification  of 
the  passions;  while  in  European  marriages  the  mutual 
attachment  and  respect  of  the  contracting  parties,  the  forma- 
tion of  a household,  and  the  long  train  of  domestic  feelings 
and  duties  that  accompany  it,  have  all  them  distinguished 
place  among  the  motives  of  the  contract,  and  the  lower 
element  has  comparatively  little  prominence.  In  this  way  it 
may  be  intelligibly  said,  without  any  reference  to  utilitarian 
considerations,  that  monogamy  is  a higher  state  than  poly- 
gamy. The  utilitarian  arguments  in  its  defence  are  also 
extremely  powerful,  and  may  be  summed  up  in  three 
sentences.  Nature,  by  making  the  number  of  males  and 
females  nearly  equal,  indicates  it  as  natural.  In  no  other 
form  of  marriage  can  the  government  of  the  family,  which  is 
one  of  the  chief  ends  of  marriage,  be  so  happily  sustained, 

1 ‘ Dotem  non  uxor  marito  sed  that  no  Longobard  should  givi 
uxori  maritus  offert.’ — Tac.  Germ,  more  than  one-fourth  of  his  sul>- 
xviii.  On  the  Morgengab,  see  stance  as  a Morgengab.  In  G re 
Cane  ani,  Leges  Barbarorum  (Ve-  gory  of  Tours  (ix.  20)  we  have  an 
net.iis,  1781),  vol.  i.  pp.  102-104;  example  of  the  gift  of  some  cities 
ii.  pp.  230-231.  Muratori,  Antich.  as  a Morgengab. 

Ital.  diss.  xx.  Luitprand  enacted 


THE  POSITION  OF  WOMEN. 


279 


And  in  no  other  does  woman  assume  the  position  of  the  equal 
of  man. 

Monogamy  was  the  general  system  in  Greece,  though 
there  are  said  to  have  been  slight  and  temporary  deviation? 
into  the  earlier  system,  after  some  great  disasters,  when  an 
increase  of  population  was  ardently  desired.1  A bread  line 
must,  however,  be  drawn  between  the  legendary  or  poetical 
period,  as  reflected  in  Homer  and  perpetuated  in  the  trage- 
dians, and  the  later  liistorical  period.  It  is  one  of  the 
most  remarkable,  and  to  some  writers  one  of  the  most 
perplexing,  facts  in  the  moral  history  of  Greece,  that  in  the 
former  and  ruder  period  women  had  undoubtedly  the  highest 
place,  and  their  type  exhibited  the  highest  perfection.  Moral 
ideas,  in  a thousand  forms,  have  been  sublimated,  enlarged, 
and  changed,  by  advancing  civilisation  3 but  it  may  be 
fearlessly  asserted  that  the  types  of  female  excellence  which 
are  contained  in  the  Greek  poems,  while  they  are  among  the 
earliest,  are  also  among  the  most  perfect  in  the  literature  of 
mankind.  The  conjugal  tenderness  of  Hector  and  Andro- 
mache ; the  unwearied  fidelity  of  Penelope,  awaiting  through 
the  long  revolving  years  the  return  of  her  storm-tossed 
husband,  who  looked  forward  to  her  as  to  the  crown  of  all 
his  labours ; the  heroic  love  of  Alcestis,  voluntarily  dying 
that  her  husband  might  live;  the  filial  piety  of  Antigone; 
the  majestic  grandeur  of  the  death  of  Polyxena;  the  more 
subdued  and  saintly  resignation  of  Iphigenia,  excusing  with 
her  last  breath  the  father  who  had  condemned  her ; the 
joyous,  modest,  and  loving  Nausicaa,  whose  figure  shines  like 
a perfect  idyll  among  the  tragedies  of  the  Odyssey — all  these 
are  pictures  of  perennial  beauty,  which  Rome  and  Christen- 
dom, chivalry  and  modern  civilisation,  have  neither  eclipsed 
nor  transcended.  Virgin  modesty  and  conjugal  fidelity,  the 


1 See,  on  this  point,  Aul.  Gellius,  Nod.  Att.  xv.  20.  Euripides  in 
«aid  to  have  had  two  wives. 


280 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


graces  as  well  as  the  virtues  of  the  most  perfect  womanhood 
have  never  been  more  exquisitely  pourtrayed.  The  female 
figures  stand  out  in  the  canvas  almost  as  prominently  as  the 
male  ones,  and  are  surrounded  by  an  almost  equal  reverence. 
The  whole  history  of  the  Siege  of  Troy  is  a history  of  the 
catastrophes  that  followed  a violation  of  the  nuptial  tie. 
Yet,  at  the  same  time,  the  position  of  women  was  in  some 
respects  a degraded  one.  The  custom  of  purchase-money 
given  to  the  father  of  the  bride  was  general.  The  husbands 
appear  to  have  indulged  largely,  and  with  little  or  no  censure, 
in  concubines. 1 Female  captives  of  the  highest  rank  were 
treated  with  great  harshness.  The  inferiority  of  women  to 
men  was  strongly  asserted,  and  it  was  illustrated  and  de- 
fended by  a very  curious  physiological  notion,  that  the 
generative  power  belonged  exclusively  to  men,  women  having 
only  a very  subordinate  part  in  the  production  of  their 
children.2  The  woman  Pandora  was  said  to  have  been  the 
author  of  all  human  ills. 

In  the  historical  age  of  Greece,  the  legal  position  of 
women  had  in  some  respects  slightly  improved,  but  their 
moral  condition  had  undergone  a marked  deterioration. 
Virtuous  women  lived  a life  of  perfect  seclusion.  The  fore- 
most and  most  dazzling  type  of  Ionic  womanhood  was  the 


1 Aristotle  said  that  ITomer 
never  gives  a concubine  to  Mene- 
laus,  in  order  to  intimate  his 
respect  for  Helen — though  false. 
(. Athenceus , xiii.  3.) 

2 iEschylushasput  this  curious 
notion  into  the  mouth  of  Apollo, 
in  a speech  in  the  Eumenides.  It 
has,  however,  been  very  widely 
diffused,  nml  may  be  found  in 
Indian,  Greek,  Roman,  and  even 
Christian  writers.  M.  Legouv6, 
who  has  devoted  a very  curious 
chapter  to  the  subject,  quotes  a 
passage  from  St.  Thomas  Aquinas, 


accepting  it,  and  arguing  from  it, 
that  a father  should  be  more  loved 
than  a mother.  M.  Legouv6  says 
that  when  the  male  of  one  animal 
and  the  female  of  another  are 
crossed,  the  type  of  tho  female 
usually  predominates  in  the  off- 
spring. See  Legouve,  Hist,  morali 
des  Femmes,  pp.  216-228  ; Fust  el 
de  Coulanges,  La  Cite  antique,  pp. 
39-40  ; and  also  a curious  note  by 
Boswell,  in  Croker’s  edition  of 
Boswell’s  Life  of  Johnson  (1847) 
p.  472. 


THE  POSITION  OP  WOMEN. 


2S1 


eourtesan,  while,  among  the  men,  the  latitude  accorded  by 
public  opinion  was  almost  unrestricted. 

The  facts  in  moral  history,  which  it  is  at  once  most 
important  and  most  difficult  to  appreciate,  are  what  may  be 
called  the  facts  of  feeling.  It  is  much  easier  to  show  what 
men  did  or  taught  than  to  realise  the  state  of  mind  that  ren- 
dered possible  such  actions  or  teaching ; and  in  the  case  before 
us  we  have  to  deal  with  a condition  of  feeling  so  extremely 
remote  from  that  of  our  own  day,  that  the  difficulty  is  pre- 
eminently great.  Yery  sensual,  and  at  the  same  time  very 
brilliant  societies,  have  indeed  repeatedly  existed,  and  the 
histories  of  both  France  and  Italy  afford  many  examples  of 
an  artistic  and  intellectual  enthusiasm  encircling  those  who 
were  morally  most  frail ; but  the  peculiarity  of  Greek  sen- 
suality is,  that  it  grew  up,  for  the  most  part,  uncensured, 
and  indeed  even  encouraged,  under  the  eyes  of  some  of  the 
most  illustrious  of  moralists.  If  we  can  imagine  Ninon  de 
1’Enclos  at  a time  when  the  rank  and  splendour  of  Parisian 
society  thronged  her  drawing-rooms,  reckoning  a Bossuet 
or  a Fenelon  among  her  followers — if  we  can  imagine  these 
prelates  publicly  advising  her  about  the  duties  of  her  pro- 
fession, and  the  means  of  attaching  the  affections  of  her 
lovers — we  shall  have  conceived  a relation  scarcely  more 
strange  than  that  which  existed  between  Socrates  and  the 
courtesan  Theodota. 

In  order  to  reconstruct,  as  far  as  possible,  the  modes  of 
feeling  of  the  Greek  moralists,  it  will  be  necessary  in  the 
first  place  to  say  a few  words  concerning  one  of  the  most 
delicate,  but  at  the  same  time  most  important,  problems 
with  which  the  legislator  and  the  moralist  have  to  deal. 

It  was  a favourite  doctrine  of  the  Chiistian  Fathers,  that 
concupiscence,  or  the  sensual  passion,  was  ‘ the  original  sin  ’ 
of  human  nature  ; and  it  must  be  owned  that  the  progress  of 
knowledge,  which  is  usually  extremely  opposed  to  the  ascetic 
theory  of  life,  concurs  with  the  theological  view,  in  showing 


2^2  HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 

the  natural  force  of  this  appetite  to  he  far  greater  than  ths 
well-being  of  man  requires.  The  writings  of  Malthus  have 
proved,  what  the  Greek  moralists  appear  in  a considerable 
degree  to  have  seen,  that  its  normal  and  temperate  exercise 
in  the  form  of  marriage,  would  produce,  if  universal,  the 
utmost  calamities  to  the  world,  and  that,  while  nature  seems 
in  the  most  unequivocal  manner  to  urge  the  human  race  to 
early  marriages,  the  first  condition  of  an  advancing  civilisa- 
tion in  populous  countries  is  to  restrain  or  diminish  them. 
In  no  highly  civilised  society  is  marriage  general  on  the  first 
development  of  the  passions,  and  the  continual  tendency  of 
increasing  knowledge  is  to  render  such  marriages  more  rare. 
It  is  also  an  undoubted  truth  that,  however  much  moralists 
may  enforce  the  obligation  of  extra-matrimonial  purity,  this 
obligation  has  never  been  even  approximately  regarded ; and 
in  all  nations,  ages,  and  religions  a vast  mass  of  irregular 
indulgence  has  appeared,  which  has  probably  contributed 
more  than  any  other  single  cause  to  the  misery  and  the  degra- 
dation of  man. 

There  are  two  ends  which  a moralist,  in  dealing  with  this 
question,  will  especially  regard— the  natural  duty  of  every 
man  doing  something  for  the  support  of  the  child  he  has 
called  into  existence,  and  the  preservation  of  the  domestic 
circle  unassailed  and  unpolluted.  The  family  is  the  centre 
and  the  archetype  of  the  State,  and  the  happiness  and  good- 
ness of  society  are  always  in  a very  great  degree  dependent 
upon  the  purity  of  domestic  life.  The  essentially  exclusive 
nature  of  marital  affection,  and  the  natural  desire  of  every 
man  to  be  certain  of  the  paternity  of  the  child  he  supports, 
render  the  incursions  of  irregular  passions  within  the  domestic 
circle  a cause  of  extreme  suffering.  Yet  it  would  appear  as 
if  the  excessive  force  of  these  passions  would  render  such 
incursions  both  frequent  and  inevitable. 

Under  these  circumstances,  there  has  arisen  in  society  a 
figure  which  is  certainly  the  most  mournful,  and  in  soma 


THE  POSITION  OF  WOMEN. 


2S3 


respects  the  most  awful,  upon  which  the  eye  of  the  moralist 
can  dwell.  That  unhappy  being  whose  very  name  is  a shame 
to  speak ; who  counterfeits  with  a cold  heart  the  transport? 
of  affection,  and  submits  herself  as  the  passive  instrument  of 
lust ; who  is  scorned  and  insulted  as  the  vilest  of  her  sex, 
and  doomed,  for  the  most  part,  to  disease  and  abject 
wretchedness  and  an  early  death,  appears  in  every  age  as  the 
perpetual  symbol  of  the  degradation  and  the  sinfulness  of 
man.  Herself  the  supreme  type  of  vice,  she  is  ultimately 
the  most  efficient  guardian  of  virtue.  But  for  her,  the  un- 
challenged purity  of  countless  happy  homes  would  be 
polluted,  and  not  a few  who,  in  the  pride  of  their  untempted 
chastity,  think  of  her  with  an  indignant  shudder,  would 
have  known  the  agony  of  remorse  and  of  despair.  On  that 
one  degraded  and  ignoble  form  are  concentrated  the  passions 
that  might  have  filled  the  world  with  shame.  She  remains, 
while  creeds  and  civilisations  rise  and  fall,  the  eternal  priestess 
of  humanity,  blasted  for  the  sins  of  the  people. 

In  dealing  with  this  unhappy  being,  and  with  all  of  her 
sex  who  have  violated  the  law  of  chastity,  the  public  opinion 
of  most  Christian  countries  pronounces  a sentence  of  extreme 
severity.  In  the  Anglo-Saxon  nations  especially,  a single 
fault  of  this  kind  is  sufficient,  at  least  in  the  upper  and  middle 
classes,  to  affix  an  indelible  brand  which  no  time,  no  virtues, 
no  penitence  can  wholly  efface.  This  sentence  is  probably, 
in  the  first  instance,  simply  the  expression  of  the  religious 
feeling  on  the  subject,  but  it  is  also  sometimes  defended  by 
powerful  arguments  drawn  from  the  interests  of  society.  It 
is  said  that  the  preservation  of  domestic  purity  is  a matter  of 
such  transcendent  importance  that  it  is  right  that  the  most 
crushing  penalties  should  be  attached  to  an  act  which  the 
imagination  can  easily  transfigure,  which  legal  enactments 
can  never  efficiently  control,  and  to  which  the  most  violent 
passions  may  prompt.  It  is  said,  too,  that  an  anathema 
which  drives  into  obscurity  all  evidences  of  sensual  passions 


2S1 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


is  peculiarly  fitted  to  restrict  their  operation ; for,  more  than 
any  other  passions,  they  are  dependent  on  the  imagination, 
which  is  readily  fired  by  the  sight  of  evil.  It  is  added,  that 
the  emphasis  with  which  the  vice  is  stigmatised  produces  a 
corresponding  admiration  for  the  opposite  virtue,  and  that  a 
feeling  of  the  most  delicate  and  scrupulous  honour  is  thus 
formed  among  the  female  population,  which  not  only  pre- 
serves from  gross  sin,  but  also  dignifies  and  ennobles  the 
whole  character. 

In  opposition  to  these  views,  several  considerations  of 
much  weight  have  been  urged.  It  is  argued  that,  however 
persistently  society  may  ignore  this  form  of  vice,  it  exists 
nevertheless,  and  on  the  most  gigantic  scale,  and  that  evil 
rarely  assumes  such  inveterate  and  perverting  forms  as  when 
it  is  shrouded  in  obscurity  and  veiled  by  an  hypocritical  ap- 
pearance of  unconsciousness.  The  existence  in  England  of 
certainly  not  less  than  fifty  thousand  unhappy  women,1  sunk 
in  the  very  lowest  depths  of  vice  and  misery,  shows  suffi- 
ciently what  an  appalling  amount  of  moral  evil  is  festering 
uncontrolled,  undiscussed,  and  unalleviated,  under  the  fair 
surface  of  a decorous  society.  In  the  eyes  of  every  physician, 
and  indeed  in  the  eyes  of  most  continental  writers  who  have 
adverted  to  the  subject,  no  other  feature  of  English  life 
appears  so  infamous  as  the  fact  that  an  epidemic,  which  is 
one  of  the  most  dreadful  now  existing  among  mankind,  which 
communicates  itself  from  the  guilty  husband  to  the  innocent 
wife,  and  even  transmits  its  taint  to  her  offspring,  and  which 
the  experience  of  other  nations  conclusively  proves  may  be 
vastly  diminished,  should  be  suffered  to  rage  unchecked 


' Dr.  Vintras,  in  a remarkable  in  1864,  was  49,370;  and  this  is 
pamphlet  (London,  1867)  On  the  certainly  much  below  the  entire 
Repression  of  Prostitution , shows  number.  Theso,  it  will  be  ob- 
from  the  police  statistics  that  the  served,  comprise  only  the  habitual, 
number  of  prostitutes  known  to  professional  prostitute* 
the  police  in  England  and  Wales. 


THE  POSITION  OP  WOMEN. 


285 


because  the  Legislature  refuses  to  take  official  cognisance  of 
its  existence,  or  proper  sanitary  measures  for  its  repression.1 
If  the  terrible  censure  which  English  public  opinion  passes 
upon  every  instance  of  female  frailty  in  some  degree  dimi- 
nishes the  number,  it  does  not  prevent  such  instances  from 
being  extremely  numerous,  and  it  immeasurably  aggravates 
the  suffering  they  produce.  Acts  which  in  other  European 
countries  would  excite  only  a slight  and  transient  emotion, 
spread  in  England,  over  a wide  circle,  all  the  bitterness  of 
unmitigated  anguish.  Acts  which  naturally  neither  imply 
nor  produce  a total  subversion  of  the  moral  feelings,  and 
which,  in  other  countries,  are  often  followed  by  happy, 
virtuous,  and  affectionate  lives,  in  England  almost  invari- 
ably lead  to  absolute  ruin.  Infanticide  is  greatly  multiplied, 
and  a vast  proportion  of  those  whose  reputations  and  lives 
have  been  blasted  by  one  momentary  sin,  are  hurled  into  the 
abyss  of  habitual  prostitution — a condition  which,  owing  to 
the  sentence  of  public  opinion  and  the  neglect  of  legislators, 
is  in  no  other  European  country  so  hopelessly  vicious  or  so 
irrevocable.2 

It  is  added,  too,  that  the  immense  multitude  who  are 
thus  doomed  to  the  extremity  of  life-long  wretchedness  are 
not  always,  perhaps  not  generally,  of  those  whose  disposi- 
tions seem  naturally  incapable  of  virtue.  The  victims  of 


' Some  measures  have  recently 
been  taken  in  a few  garrison  towns. 
The  moral  sentiment  of  the  com- 
munity, it  appears,  would  be. 
shocked  if  Liverpool  were  treated 
on  the  same  principles  as  Ports- 
mouth. This  very  painful  and 
revolting,  but  most  important,  sub- 
ject has  been  treated  with  great 
knowledge,  impartiality;  and 
ability,  by  Parent-Duchatelet, 
in  bis  famous  work,  La  Prosti- 
tution dans  la  title  de  Paris. 
The  third  edition  contains  very 


copious  supplementary  accounts, 
furnished  by  different  doctors 
in  different  countries. 

2 Parent  Duchatelet  has  given 
many  statistics,  showing  the  very 
large  extent  to  which  the  French 
system  of  supervision  deters  those 
who  were  about  to  enter  into 
prostitution,  and  reclaims  those 
who  had  entered  into  it.  He  and 
Dr.  Vintras  concur  in  representing 
English  prostitution  as  about  the 
most  degraded,  aud  at  the  sams 
time  the  most  irrevocable. 


288 


I1IST0BY  OF  EUBOPEAN  MOBALS. 


seduction  are  often  led  aside  quite  as  much  by  the  ardour  of 
their  affections,  and  by  the  vivacity  of  their  intelligence,  as 
by  any  vicious  propensities.1  Even  in  the  lowest  grades,  the 
most  dispassionate  observers  have  detected  remains  of  higher 
feelings,  which,  in  a different  moral  atmosphere,  and  under 
different  moral  husbandry,  would  have  undoubtedly  been 
developed.2  The  statistics  of  prostitution  show  that  a great 
proportion  of  those  who  have  fallen  into  it  have  been  im- 
pelled by  the  most  extreme  poverty,  in  many  instances 
verging  upon  starvation.3 

These  opposing  considerations,  which  I have  very  briefly 
indicated,  and  which  I do  not  propose  to  discuss  or  to 


1 Miss  Mulock,  in  her  amiable 
but  rather  feeble  book,  called  A 
Woman's  Thoughts  about  Women, 
has  some  good  remarks  on  this 
point  (pp.  291-293),  which  are  all 
the  more  valuable,  as  the  authoress 
has  not  the  faintest  sympathy  with 
any  opinions  concerning  the  char- 
acter and  position  of  women  which 
are  not  strictly  conventional.  She 
notices  the  experience  of  Sunday 
school  mistresses,  that,  of  their 
pupils  who  are  seduced,  an  ex- 
tremely large  proportion  are  ‘ of 
the  very  best,  refined,  intelligent, 
truthful,  and  affectionate.’ 

2 See  the  very  singular  and  pain- 
ful chapter  in  Parent-Duchatelet, 
called  ‘ Mceurs  et  Habitudes  des 
Prostitutes.’  He  observes  that 
they  are  remarkable  for  their 
kindness  to  one  another  in  sickness 
or  in  distress  ; that  they  are  not 
unfrequently  charitable  to  poor 
people  who  do  not  belong  to  their 
class ; that  when  one  of  them  has 
a child,  it  becomes  the  object  of 
very  general  interest  and  affection  ; 
that  most  of  them  have  lovers,  to 


whom  they  are  sincerely  attached  ; 
that  they  rarely  fail  to  show  in 
the  hospitals  a very  real  sense  of 
shame ; and  that  many  of  them 
entered  into  their  mode  of  life  for 
the  purpose  of  supporting  aged 
parents.  One  anecdote  is  worth 
giving  in  the  words  of  the  author: 
‘ Un  medecin  n’entrant  jamais  dans 
leurs  salles  sans  oter  legferement 
son  chapeau,  par  cette  seule  poli- 
tesse  il  sut  tellement  conquerir 
leur  confiance  qu’il  leur  faisait 
faire  tout  ce  qu’il  voulait.’  This 
writer,  I may  observe,  is  not  a 
romance  writer  or  a theorist  of  any 
description.  He  is  simply  a phy- 
sician who  describes  the  results  of 
a very  large  official  experience. 

3  ‘ Parent-Duchatelet  atteste 
que  sur  trois  mille  creatures  per- 
dues  trente  cinq  seulement  avaient 
un  etat  qui  pouvait  les  nourrir,  et. 
que  quatorze  cents  avaient  £t6  pre- 
cipitees  dans  cette  horrible  vie  par 
la  misere.  Une  d’elles,  quand  el  la 
s’y  resolut,  n’avait  pas  mange  de< 
puis  trois  jours.’ — Legouve,  Hist, 
morale  des  Femmes,  pp.  322-  323. 


THE  POSITION  OF  WOMEN. 


2S7 


estimate,  will  be  sufficient  to  exhibit  the  magnitude  of  the 
problem.  In  the  Greek  civilisation,  legislators  and  moralists 
endeavoured  to  meet  it  by  the  cordial  recognition  of  two 
distinct  orders  of  womanhood  1 — the  wife,  whose  first  duty 
was  fidelity  to  her  husband ; the  heteera.,  or  mistress,  who 
subsisted  by  her  fugitive  attachments.  The  wives  of  the 
Greeks  lived  in  almost  absolute  seclusion.  They  were 
usually  married  when  very  young.  Their  occupations  were  to 
weave,  to  spin,  to  embroider,  to  superintend  the  household, 
to  care  for  their  sick  slaves.  They  lived  in  a special  and 
retired  part  of  the  house.  The  more  wealthy  seldom  went 
abroad,  and  never  except  when  accompanied  by  a female 
slave;  never  attended  the  public  spectacles;  received  no 
male  visitors  except  in  the  presence  of  their  husbands,  and 
had  not  even  a seat  at  their  own  tables  when  male  guests 
were  there.  Their  pre-eminent  virtue  was  fidelity,  and  it  is 
probable  that  this  was  very  strictly  and  very  generally  ob- 
served. Their  remarkable  freedom  from  temptations,  the 
public  opinion  which  strongly  discouraged  any  attempt  to 
seduce  them,  and  the  ample  sphere  for  illicit  pleasures  that 
was  accorded  to  the  other  sex,  all  contributed  to  protect  it. 
On  the  other  hand,  living,  as  they  did,  almost  exclusively 
among  their  female  slaves,  being  deprived  of  all  the  educating 
influence  of  male  society,  and  having  no  place  at  those  public 
spectacles  which  were  the  chief  means  of  Athenian  culture, 
their  minds  must  necessarily  have  been  exceedingly  con- 
tracted. Thucydides  doubtless  expressed  the  prevailing  sen- 
timent of  his  countrymen  when  he  said  that  the  highest 
merit  of  woman  is  not  to  be  spoken  of  either  for  good  or  for 


1 Concerning  the  position  and  Rainneville,  La  Femme  dans 
character  of  Greek  women,  the  l ’Antiguite  (Paris,  1865);  and  an 
reader  may  obtain  ample  informa-  article  ‘ On  Female  Society  in 
tion  by  consulting  Becker’s  Chari-  Greece,’  in  the  twenty-second 
ties  (translated  by  Metcalfe,  1815);  volume  of  the  Quarterly  Review, 


2S8 


HISTORY  OR  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


evil ; and  Phidias  illustrated  the  same  feeling  when  he  repre- 
sented the  heavenly  Aphrodite  standing  on  a tortoise,  typi- 
fying thereby  the  secluded  life  of  a virtuous  woman.1 

In  their  own  restricted  sphere  their  lives  were  probably 
not  unhappy.  Education  and  custom  rendered  the  purely 
domestic  life  that  was  assigned  to  them  a second  nature,  and 
it  must  in  most  instances  have  reconciled  them  to  the  extra- 
matrimonial  connections  in  which  their  husbands  too  fre- 
quently indulged.  The  prevailing  manners  were  very  gentle. 
Domestic  oppression  is  scarcely  ever  spoken  of ; the  husband 
lived  chiefly  in  the  public  place;  causes  of  jealousy  and  of 
dissension  could  seldom  occur ; and  a feeling  of  warm  affection, 
though  not  a feeling  of  equality,  must  doubtless  have  in  most 
cases  spontaneously  arisen.  In  the  writings  of  Xenophon 
we  have  a charming  picture  of  a husband  who  had  received 
into  his  arms  his  young  wife  of  fifteen,  absolutely  ignorant  of 
the  world  and  of  its  ways.  He  speaks  to  her  with  extreme 
kindness,  but  in  the  language  that  would  be  used  to  a little 
child.  Her  task,  he  tells  her,  is  to  be  like  a queen  bee, 
dwelling  continually  at  home  and  superintending  the  work  of 
her  slaves.  She  must  distribute  to  each  them  tasks,  must 
economise  the  family  income,  and  must  take  especial  care 
that  the  house  is  strictly  orderly — the  shoes,  the  pots,  and 
the  clothes  always  in  their  places.  It  is  also,  he  tells  her,  a 
part  of  her  duty  to  tend  her  sick  slaves;  but  here  his  wife 
interrupted  him,  exclaiming,  ‘ Nay,  but  that  will  indeed  be 
the  most  agreeable  of  my  offices,  if  such  as  I treat  with  kind- 
ness are  likely  to  be  grateful,  and  to  love  me  more  than 
before.’  With  a very  tender  and  delicate  care  to  avoid 
everything  resembling  a reproach,  the  husband  persuades 
his  wife  to  give  up  the  habits  of  wealing  high-heeled  boots, 
in  order  to  appear  tall,  and  of  colouring  her  face  with  ver- 
milion and  white  lead.  He  promises  her  that  if  she  faith- 


Plutarch,  Conj.  Prtec. 


TIIE  POSITION  OE  WOMEN. 


2S9 


fully  performs  lier  duties  he  will  himself  he  the  first  and 
most  devoted  of  her  slaves.  He  assured  Socrates  that  when 
any  domestic  dispute  arose  he  could  extricate  himself  ad- 
mirably, if  he  was  in  the  right ; but  that,  whenever  he  was 
in  the  wrong,  ho  found  it  impossible  to  convince  his  wife 
that  it  was  otherwise.1 

We  have  another  picture  of  Greek  married  life  in  the 
writings  of  Plutarch,  but  it  represents  the  condition  of  the 
Greek  mind  at  a later  period  than  that  of  Xenophon.  In 
Plutarch  the  wife  is  represented  not  as  the  mere  housekeeper 
or  as  the  chief  slave  of  her  husband,  but  as  his  equal  and 
his  companion.  He  enforces,  in  the  strongest  terms, 
reciprocity  of  obligations,  and  desires  that  the  minds  of 
women  should  be  cultivated  to  the  lughest  point.2  His 
precepts  of  marriage,  indeed,  fall  little  if  at  all  below  any 
that  have  appeared  in  modern  days.  His  letter  of  consola- 
tion to  his  wife,  on  the  death  of  their  child,  breathes  a spirit 
of  the  tenderest  affection.  It  is  recorded  of  him  that, 
having  had  some  dispute  with  the  relations  of  his  wife,  she 
feared  that  it  might  impair  their  domestic  happiness,  and  she 
accordingly  persuaded  her  husband  to  accompany  her  on  a 
pilgrimage  to  Mount  Helicon,  where  they  offered  up  together 
a sacrifice  to  Love,  and  prayed  that  their  affection  for  one 
another  might  never  be  diminished. 

In  general,  however,  the  position  of  the  virtuous  Greek 
woman  was  a very  low  one.  She  was  under  a perpetual 
tutelage  : first  of  all  to  her  parents,  who  disposed  of  her  hand, 
then  to  her  husband,  and  in  her  days  of  widowhood  to  her 
sons.  In  cases  of  inheritance  her  male  relations  were 
preferred  to  her.  The  privilege  of  divorce,  which,  in  Athens, 
at  least,  she  possessed  as  well  as  her  husband,  appears  to 
have  been  practically  almost  nugatory,  on  accoimt  of  the 

1 Xenophon,  Econ.  ii.  of  the  character  of  a good  wife  in 

2 Plut.  Conj.  Perec.  There  is  Aristotle.  {Economics,  book  i.  cap 
also  an  extremely  beautiful  picture  vii.'l 


290 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


shock  which  public  declarations  in  the  law  court  gave  to  the 
habits  which  education  and  public  opinion  had  formed. 
She  brought  with  her,  however,  a dowry,  and  the  recognised 
necessity  of  endowing  daughters  was  one  of  the  causes  of 
those  frequent  expositions  which  were  perpetrated  with  so 
little  blame.  The  Athenian  law  was  also  peculiarly  careful 
and  tender  in  dealing  with  the  interests  of  female  orphans.1 
Plato  had  argued  that  women  were  equal  to  men ; but  the 
habits  of  the  people  were  totally  opposed  to  this  theory. 
Marriage  was  regarded  chiefly  in  a civic  light,  as  the  means  of 
producing  citizens,  and  in  Sparta  it  was  ordered  that  old  or 
infirm  husbands  should  cede  their  young  wives  to  stronger 
men,  who  could  produce  vigorous  soldiers  for  the  State. 
The  Lacedaemonian  treatment  of  women,  which  differed  in 
many  respects  from  that  which  prevailed  in  the  other  Greek 
States,  while  it  was  utterly  destructive  of  all  delicacy  of 
feeling  or  action,  had  undoubtedly  the  effect  of  producing  a 
fierce  and  masculine  patriotism  ; and  many  fine  examples  are 
recorded  of  Spartan  mothers  devoting  their  sons  on  the  altar 
of  their  country,  rejoicing  over  their  deaths  when  nobly  won, 
and  infusing  their  own  heroic  spirit  into  the  armies  of  the 
people.  For  the  most  part,  however,  the  names  of  virtuous 
women  seldom  appear  in  Greek  history.  The  simple  modesty 
which  was  evinced  by  Pliocion’s  wife,  in  the  period  when  her 
husband  occupied  the  foremost  position  in  Athens,2  and  a 
few  instances  of  conjugal  and  filial  affection,  have  been 
recorded  ; but  in  general  the  only  women  who  attracted  the 
notice  of  the  people  were  the  hetseras,  or  courtesans.3 


1 See  Alexander’s  History  of 
Women  (London,  1783),  vol.i.p.  201. 

* Plutarch,  Phonon. 

8 Our  information  concerning 
the  Greek  courtesans  is  chiefly  de- 
rived from  the  thirteenth  book  of  the 
Veipnosophists  of  Athenseus,  from 
the  Letters  of  Alciphron,  from  the 


Dialogues  of  Lucian  on  courtesans, 
and  from  the  oration  of  Demo- 
sthenes against  Nesera.  See,  too, 
Xenophon,  Memorabilia , iii.  1 1 ; 
and  among  modern  hooks,  Becker’s 
Charicles.  Athenaeus  was  an 
Egyptian,  whose  exact  date  is 
unknown,  but  who  appears  to  hava 


THE  POSITION  OF  WOMEN. 


201 


In  order  to  understand  the  position  which  these  last 
assumed  in  Greek  life,  we  must  transport  ourselves  in 
thought  into  a moral  latitude  totally  different  from  our  own 
The  Greek  conception  of  excellence  was  the  full  and  perfect 
development  of  humanity  in  all  its  organs  and  functions, 
and  wi  thout  any  tinge  of  asceticism.  Some  parts  of  human 
nature  were  recognised  as  higher  than  others  ; and  to  suffer 
any  of  the  lower  appetites  to  obscure  the  mind,  restrain  the 
will  and  engross  the  energies  of  life,  was  acknowledged  to  be 
disgraceful ; but  the  systematic  rejtression  of  a natural  appetite 
was  totally  foreign  to  Greek  modes  of  thought.  Legislators, 
moralists,  and  the  general  voice  of  the  people,  appear  to  have 
applied  these  principles  almost  unreservedly  to  intercourse 
between  the  sexes,  and  the  most  virtuous  men  habitually  and 
openly  entered  into  relations  which  would  now  be  almost 
universally  censured. 

The  experience,  however,  of  many  societies  has  shown 
that  a public  opinion  may  accord,  in  this  respect,  almost 
unlimited  licence  to  one  sex,  without  showing  any  cor- 
responding indulgence  to  the  other.  But,  in  Greece,  a con- 
currence of  causes  had  conspired  to  bring  a certain  section 
of  courtesans  into  a position  they  have  in  no  other  society 
attained.  The  voluptuous  worship  of  Aphrodite  gave  a kind 
of  religious  sanction  to  their  profession.  Courtesans  were 
the  priestesses  in  her  temples,  and  those  of  Corinth  were 
believed  by  their  prayers  to  have  averted  calamities  from  their 
city.  Prostitution  is  said  to  have  entered  into  the  religious 
rites  of  Babylon,  Biblis,  Cyprus,  and  Corinth,  and  these  as 
well  as  Miletus,  Tenedos,  Lesbos,  and  Abydos  became  famous 
for  their  schools  of  vice,  which  grew  up  under  the  shadow  of 
the  temples.1 

survived  Ulpian,  who  died  in  a.d.  Alciphron  is  believed  to  have  lived 
228.  He  had  access  to,  and  gave  near  the  time  of  Lucian, 
extracts  from,  many  works  on  this  1 According  to  some  writers  the 
subject,  which  have  now  perished,  word  ‘ venerari'  comes  from  ‘ Vene- 


292 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


In  the  next  place,  the  intense  aesthetic  enthusiasm  that 
prevailed  was  eminently  fitted  to  raise  the  most  beautiful 
to  honour.  In  a land  and  beneath  a sky  where  natural 
beauty  developed  to  the  highest  point,  there  arose  a school 
of  matchless  artists  both  in  painting  and  in  sculpture,  and 
public  games  and  contests  were  celebrated,  in  which  supreme 
physical  perfection  was  crowned  by  an  assembled  people.  In 
no  other  period  of  the  world’s  history  was  the  admiration 
of  beauty  in  all  its  forms  so  passionate  or  so  universal.  It 
coloured  the  w hole  moral  teaching  of  the  time,  and  led  the 
chief  moralists  to  regard  virtue  simply  as  the  highest  kind 
of  supersensual  beauty.  It  appeared  in  all  literature,  where 
the  beauty  of  form  and  style  was  the  first  of  studies.  It 
supplied  at  once  the  inspiration  and  the  rule  of  all  Greek 
art.  It  led  the  Greek  wife  to  pray,  before  all  other  prayers, 
for  the  beauty  of  her  children.  It  surrounded  the  most 
beautiful  with  an  aureole  of  admiring  reverence.  The 
courtesan  was  often  the  queen  of  beauty.  She  was  the 
model  of  the  statues  of  Aphrodite,  that  commanded  the 
admiration  of  Greece.  Praxiteles  was  accustomed  to  repro- 
duce the  form  of  Phryne,  and  her  statue,  carved  in  gold, 
stood  in  the  temple  of  Apollo  at  Delphi ; and  when  she  was 
accused  of  corrupting  the  youth  of  Athens,  her  advocate, 
Ilyperides,  procured  her  acquittal  by  suddenly  unveiling  her 
charms  before  the  dazzled  eyes  of  the  assembled  judges. 
Apelles  was  at  once  the  painter  and  the  lover  of  Lais,  and 
Alexandei  gave  him,  as  the  choicest  gift,  his  own  favourite 
concubine,  of  whom  the  painter  had  become  enamoured 
while  pourtraying  her.  The  chief  flower-painter  of  antiquity 
acquired  his  skill  through  his  love  of  the  flower-girl  Glycera, 
whom  he  was  accustomed  to  paint  among  her  ga;  lands. 
Pindar  and  Simonides  sang  the  praises  of  courtesans,  and 

Jem  exercere,’  on  account  of  the  Latina,  ‘ veneror  also  LaMothe  la 
devotions  iu  the  temple  of  Venus.  Vayer,  Lettre  xc. 

Sue  Vossius,  Etymologicon  Lingua 


THE  POSITION  OF  WOMEN. 


293 


grave  philosophers  made  pilgrimages  to  visit  them,  and  theii 
names  were  known  in  every  city.1 

It  is  not  surprising  that,  in  such  a state  of  thought  and 
feeling,  many  of  the  more  ambitious  and  accomplished  women 
should  have  betaken  themselves  to  this  career,  nor  yet  that 
they  should  have  attained  the  social  position  which  the 
secluded  existence  and  the  enforced  ignorance  of  the  Greek 
wives  had  left  vacant.  The  courtesan  was  the  one  free 
woman  of  Athens,  and  she  often  availed  herself  of  her  free- 
dom to  acquire  a degree  of  knowledge  which  enabled  her  to 
add  to  her  other  charms  an  intense  intellectual  fascination. 
Gathering  around  her  the  most  brilliant  artists,  poets,  his- 
torians, and  philosophers,  she  flung  herself  unreservedly  into 
the  intellectual  and  aesthetic  enthusiasms  of  her  time,  and 
soon  became  the  centre  of  a literary  society  of  matchless 
splendour.  Aspasia,  who  was  as  famous  for  her  genius  as 
for  her  beauty,  won  the  passionate  love  of  Pericles.  She  is 
said  to  have  instructed  him  in  eloquence,  and  to  have  com 
posed  some  of  his  most  famous  orations  ; she  was  continually 
consulted  on  affairs  of  state ; and  Socrates,  like  other  philo- 
sophers, attended  her  assemblies.  Socrates  himself  has 
owned  his  deep  obligations  to  the  instructions  of  a courtesan 
named  Diotima.  The  courtesan  Leontium  was  among  the 
most  ardent  disciples  of  Epicurus.2 

Another  cause  probably  contributed  indirectly  to  the 
elevation  of  this  class,  to  which  it  is  extremely  difficult  to 
allude  in  an  English  book,  but  which  it  is  impossible  alto- 


* On  the  connection  of  the 
courtesans  with  the  artistic  enthu- 
siasm, see  Raoul  Rochette,  Cours 
d' Archeologie,  pp.  278  279.  See, 
too,  Athenseus,  xiii.  59 ; Pliny, 
Hist.  Nat.  xxxv.  40. 

a See  the  very  curious  little 
work  of  Menage,  Historia  Mulierum 

51 


Philusopharum  (Lugduni,  mnxe.) ; 
also  Rainneville,  Im  Femme  dans 
l' Antiquite,  p.  244.  At  a much  later 
date  Lucian  described  the  beauty, 
accomplishments,  generosity,  and 
even  modesty,  of  Punthea  of 
Smyrna,  the  favourite  mistress  of 
Lucius  Verus. 


294 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


gethcr  to  omit,  even  in  the  most  cursory  survey  of  (froth 
morals.  Irregular  female  connections  were  looked  upon  as 
ordinary  and  not  disgraceful  incidents  in  the  life  of  a good 
man,  for  they  were  compared  with  that  lower  abyss  of 
unnatural  love,  which  was  the  deepest  and  strangest  taint  of 
Greek  civilisation.  This  vice,  which  never  appears  in  the 
writings  of  Homer  and  Hesiod,  doubtless  arose  under  the 
influence  of  the  public  games,  which,  accustoming  men  to  the 
contemplation  of  absolutely  nude  figures,1  awoke  an  unnatural 
passion,2  totally  remote  from  all  modern  feelings,  but  which 
in  Greece  it  was  regarded  as  heroic  to  resist.3  The  popular 
religion  in  this,  as  in  other  cases,  was  made  to  bend  to  the 
new  vice.  Hebe,  the  cup-bearer  of  the  gods,  was  replaced 
by  Ganymede,  and  the  worst  vices  of  earth  were  transported 
to  Olympus.4  Artists  sought  to  reflect  the  passion  in  their 


1 The  which  was  atfirstin 

use,  was  discarded  by  the  Lacedae- 
monians, and  afterwards  by  the 
other  Greeks.  There  are  three 
curious  memoirs  tracing  the  history 
of  the  change,  by  M.  burette,  in 
the  Hist,  de  l’ Academic  royale  dcs 
Inscriptions , tome  i. 

3 On  the  causes  of  paiderastia 
in  Greece,  see  the  remarks  of  Mr. 
Grote  in  the  review  of  the  Sympo- 
sium, in  his  great  work  on  Plato. 
The  whole  subject  is  very  ably 
treated  by  M.  Maury,  Hist,  des 
Religions  de  la  Grece  antique , tome 
iii.  pp.  35-39.  Many  facts  con- 
nected with  it  are  collected  by  Dol- 
linger,  in  his  Jw  and  Gentile,  and 
by  Chateaubriand,  in  his  Etudes 
historiques.  The  chief  original 
suthority  is  the  thirteenth  hook  of 
lAtlieuajus,  a hook  of  very  painful 
interest  in  the  history  of  morals. 

3 Plutarch,  in  his  Life  of  Agcsi- 
laus,  dwells  on  the  iutense  self- 
control  manifested  by  that  great 


man,  in  refraining  from  gratifying 
a passion  he  had  conceived  for  a 
hoy  named  Megabetes,  and  Maxi- 
mus Tyriussays  it  deserved  greater 
praise  than  the  heroism  of  Leonidas. 
(Liss.  xxv.)  Diogenes  Laertius,  in 
his  Life  of  Zeno,  the  founder  of 
Stuicism,  the  most  austere  of  all 
ancient  sects,  praises  that  philo- 
sopher for  being  hut  little  addicted 
to  this  vice.  Sophocles  is  said  to 
have  been  much  addicted  to  it. 

4 Some  examples  of  the  ascrip- 
tion of  this  vice  to  the  divinities 
are  given  by  Clem.  Alex.  Admonitio 
ad  Gcntes.  Socrates  is  said  to  have 
maintained  that  Jupiter  loted 
Ganymede  for  his  wisdom,  as  his 
name  is  derived  from  yd.nvp.ai  and 
pySos,  to  be  delighted  with  pru- 
dence. (Xenophon,  Banquet.)  The 
disaster  of  Cairns  was  ascribed  to 
the  jealousy  of  Juno  because  a 
beautiful  boy  was  introduced  into 
the  temple  of  Jupiter.  (Lactantius, 
Inst.  Lie.  ii.  1 7.) 


THE  POSITION  OP  WOMEN. 


295 


Statute  of  the  Hermaphrodite,  of  Bacchus,  and  the  more 
effeminate  Apollo  ; moralists  were  known  to  praise  it  as  the 
bond  of  friendship,  and  it  was  spoken  of  as  the  inspiring 
enthusiasm  of  the  heroic  Theban  legion  of  Epaminondas.1 
In  general,  however,  it  was  stigmatised  as  unquestionably  a 
vice,  but  it  was  treated  with  a levity  we  can  now  hardly 
conceive.  We  can  scarcely  have  a better  illustration  of  the 
extent  to  which  moral  ideas  and  feelings  have  changed,  than 
the  fact  that  the  first  two  Greeks  who  were  considered  worthy 
of  statues  by  their  fellow-countrymen  are  said  to  have  been 
Harmodius  and  Aristogeiton,  who  were  united  by  an  impure 
love,  and  who  were  glorified  for  a political  assassination.2 

It  is  probable  that  this  cause  conspired  with  the  others  to 
dissociate  the  class  of  courtesans  from  the  idea  of  supreme 
depravity  with  which  they  have  usually  been  connected. 
The  great  majority,  however,  were  sunk  in  this,  as  in  all 
other  ages,  in  abject  degradation  ;3  comparatively  few  attained 
the  condition  of  hetajrse,  and  even  of  these  it  is  probable  that 
the  greater  number  exhibited  the  characteristics  which  in 
all  ages  have  attached  to  their  class.  Faithlessness,  extreme 
rapacity,  and  extravagant  luxury,  were  common  among 
them ; but  yet  it  is  unquestionable  that  there  were  many 
exceptions.  The  excommunication  of  society  did  not  press 
upon  or  degrade  them ; and  though  they  were  never  regarded 
with  the  same  honour  as  married  women,  it  seems  generally 
to  have  been  believed  that  the  wife  and  the  courtesan  had 
each  her  place  and  her  function  in  the  world,  and  her  own 
peculiar  type  of  excellence.  The  courtesan  Lesena,  who  was 
a friend  of  Harmodius,  died  in  torture  rather  than  reveal 

1 AtheDaeus,  xiii.  78.  Sep,  too,  Dialogues  of  Lucian  on  the  cour- 

-ilie  very  revolting  book  on  different  tesans.  See,  too,  Terence,  The 
Kinds  of  love,  ascribed  (it  is  said  Eunuch,  act  v.  scene  4,  which  is 
falsely)  to  Lucian.  copied  from  the  Greek.  The  ma- 

2 Pliny,  Hist.  Hat.  xxxiv.  9.  jority  of  the  class  were  not  called 

* There  is  ample  evidence  of  hetaerse,  but  iripvai. 

this  in  Athenaeus,  and  in  the 


296 


niSTOEY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


the  conspiracy  of  her  friend,  and  the  Athenians,  in  allusion 
to  her  name,  caused  the  statue  of  a tongueless  lioness  to  l>e 
erected  to  commemorate  her  constancy.1  The  gentle  manners 
art  I disinterested  affection  of  a courtesan  named  Bacchis 
were  especially  recorded,  and  a very  touching  letter  paints 
tier  character,  and  describes  the  regret  that  followed  her  to 
the  tomb.2  In  one  of  the  most  remarkable  of  his  pictures  of 
Greek  life,  Xenophon  describes  how  Socrates,  having  heard 
of  the  beauty  of  the  courtesan  Theodota,  went  with  his 
disciples  to  ascertain  for  himself  whether  the  report  was 
true  ; how  with  a quiet  humour  he  questioned  her  about  the 
sources  of  the  luxury  of  her  dwelling,  and  how  he  proceeded 
to  sketch  for  her  the  qualities  she  should  cultivate  in  order 
to  attach  her  lovers.  She  ought,  he  tells  her,  to  shut  the 
door  against  the  insolent,  to  watch  her  lovers  in  sekness,  to 
rejoice  greatly  when  they  succeed  in  anything  honourable, 
to  love  tenderly  those  who  love  her.  Having  carried  on  a 
cheerful  and  perfectly  unembarrassed  conversation  with  her, 
with  no  kind  of  reproach  on  his  part,  cither  expressed  or 
implied,  and  with  no  trace  either  of  the  timidity  or  effrontery 
of  conscious  guilt  upon  hers,  the  best  and  wisest  of  the  Greeks 
left  his  hostess  with  a graceful  compliment  to  her  beauty.3 

My  task  in  describing  this  aspect  of  Greek  life  has  been 
an  eminently  unpleasing  one,  and  I should  certainly  not 
have  entered  upon  even  the  baldest  and  most  guarded 
disqiusition  on  a subject  so  difficult,  painful,  and  delicate, 
had  it  not  been  absolutely  indispensable  to  a history  of 
morals  to  give  at  least  an  outline  of  the  progress  that  has 

'Plutarch,  De  Garrulilate  ; the  letters  of  Alciphron,  especially 
riin.  Hist.  Nat.  xxxiv.  19.  The  feat  the  very  touching  letter(x.)  on  her 
of  biting  cut  their  tongues  rather  death,  describing  her  kindness  and 
than  reveal  secrets,  or  yield  to  disinterestedness.  Athenaeus  (xiir. 
passion,  is  ascribed- to  a suspiciously  66)  relates  a curious  anecdote  illu». 
large  number  of  persons.  Menage  trating  these  aspects  of  her  cha- 
cites  five  besides  Leaana.  (Hist,  raeter. 

Mulier.  Philos,  pp.  10-1-108.)  5 Xenophon,  Memorab.  iii.  1 1. 

2 See,  upon  Bacchis,  several  of 


THE  POSITION  OF  WOMEN. 


297 


been  effected  in  this  sphere.  What  I have  written  will 
sufficiently  explain  why  Greece,  which  was  fertile,  beyond  all 
other  lands,  in  great  men,  was  so  remarkably  barren  of 
great  women.  It  will  show,  too,  that  while  the  Greek 
moralists  recognised,  like  ourselves,  the  distinction  between 
the  higher  and  the  lower  sides  of  our  nature,  they  differed 
very  widely  from  modern  public  opinion  in  the  standard  of 
morals  they  enforced.  The  Christian  doctrine,  that  it  is 
criminal  to  gratify  a powerful  and  a transient  physical  appe- 
tite, except  under  the  condition  of  a lifelong  contract,  was 
altogether  unknown.  Strict  duties  were  imposed  upon  Greek 
wives.  Duties  were  imposed  at  a later  period,  though  less 
strictly,  upon  the  husband.  Unnatural  love  was  stigmatised, 
but  with  a levity  of  censure  which  to  a modem  mind  appears 
inexpressibly  revolting.  Some  slight  legal  disqualifications 
rested  upon  the  whole  class  of  hetaerss,  and,  though  more 
admired,  they  were  less  respected  than  women  who  had 
adopted  a domestic  life  ; but  a combination  of  circumstances 
had  raised  them,  in  actual  worth  and  in  popular  estimation, 
to  an  unexampled  elevation,  and  an  aversion  to  marriage 
became  very  general,  and  extra-matrimonial  connections 
were  formed  with  the  most  perfect  frankness  and  publicity. 

If  we  now  turn  to  the  Roman  civilisation,  we  shall  find 
that  some  important  advances  had  been  made  in  the  condition 
of  women.  The  virtue  of  chastity  has,  as  I have  shown, 
been  regarded  in  two  different  ways.  The  utilitarian  view, 
which  commonly  prevails  in  countries  where  a political 
spirit  is  more  powerful  than  a religious  spirit,  regards 
marriage  as  the  ideal  state,  and  to  promote  the  happiness, 
sanctity,  and  security  of  this  state  is  the  main  object  of  all  its 
precepts.  The  mystical  view  which  rests  upon  the  natural 
feeling  of  shame,  and  which,  as  history  proves,  has  prevailed 
especially  where  political  sentiment  is  very  low,  and  religious 
sentiment  very  strong,  regards  virginity  as  its  supreme  type, 
and  marriage  as  simply  the  most  pardonable  declension  from 


298 


niSTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


ideal  purity.  It  is,  I think,  a very  remarkable  fact,  that  a l 
the  head  of  the  religious  system  of  Rome  we  find  two  sacer- 
dotal bodies  which  appear  respectively  to  typify  these  ideas. 
The  Flamens  of  Jupiter  and  the  Vestal  Virgins  were  the  two 
most  sacred  orders  in  Rome.  The  ministrations  of  each  were 
believed  to  be  vitally  important  to  the  State.  Each  coidd 
officiate  only  within  the  walls  of  Rome.  Each  was  appointed 
with  the  most  imposing  ceremonies.  Each  was  honoured  with 
the  most  profound  reverence.  But  in  one  important  respect 
they  differed.  The  Vestal  was  the  type  of  virginity,  and 
her  purity  was  guarded  by  the  most  terrific  penalties.  The 
Elamen,  on  the  other  hand,  was  the  representative  of  Roman 
marriage  in  its  strictest  and  holiest  form.  He  was  necessarily 
married.  His  marriage  was  celebrated  with  the  most  solemn 
rites.  It  could  only  be  dissolved  by  death.  If  his  wife  died, 
he  was  degraded  from  his  office.1 

Of  these  two  orders,  there  can  be  no  question  that  the 
Flamen  was  the  most  faithful  expression  of  the  Roman  sen- 
timents. The  Roman  religion  was  essentially  domestic,  and 
it  was  a main  object  of  the  legislator  to  surround  marriage 
with  every  circumstance  of  dignity  and  solemnity.  Monogamy 
was,  from  the  earliest  times,  strictly  enjoined ; and  it  was 
one  of  the  great  benefits  that  have  resulted  from  the 
expansion  of  Roman  power,  that  it  made  this  type  dominant 
in  Europe.  In  the  legends  of  early  Rome  we  have  ample 
evidence  both  of  the  high  moral  estimate  of  women,  and 
of  their  prominence  in  Roman  life.  The  tragedies  of  Lucretia 
and  of  Virginia  display  a delicacy  of  honour,  a sense  of  the 
supreme  excellence  of  unsullied  purity,  which  no  Christian 
nation  could  surpass.  The  legends  of  the  Sabine  women 
interceding  between  their  parents  and  them  husbands,  and 
Lh us  saving  the  infant  republic,  and  of  the  mother  of  Coriolanus 


* On  the  Flamens,  see  Aulus  (jell.  Noct.  x.  15. 


THE  POSITION  OF  WOMEN. 


299 


averting  by  her  prayers  the  ruin  impending  over  her 
country,  entitled  women  to  claim  their  share  in  the  patriotic 
glories  of  Rome.  A temple  of  "Venus  Calva  was  associated 
t ith  the  legend  of  Roman  ladies,  who,  in  an  hour  of  danger, 
cut  off  their  long  tresses  to  make  bowstrings  for  the  soldiers.1 
Another  temple  preserved  to  all  posterity  the  memory  of  the 
filial  piety  of  that  Roman  woman  who,  when  her  mother  was 
condemned  to  he  starved  to  death,  obtained  permission  to 
visit  her  in  her  prison,  and  was  discovered  feeding  her  from  her 
breast.2 

The  legal  position,  however,  of  the  Roman  wife  was  for 
a long  period  extremely  low.  The  Roman  family  was  con- 
stituted on  the  principle  of  the  uncontrolled  authority  of  its 
head,  both  over  his  wife  and  over  his  children,  and  he  could 
repudiate  the  former  at  will.  Neither  the  custom  of  gifts  to 
the  father  of  the  bride,  nor  the  custom  of  dowries,  appears  tc 
have  existed  in  the  earliest  period  of  Roman  history ; but 
the  father  disposed  absolutely  of  the  hand  of  his  daughter, 
and  sometimes  even  possessed  the  power  of  breaking  off 
marriages  that  had  been  actually  contracted.3  In  the 
forms  of  marriage,  however,  which  were  usual  in  the 
earlier  periods  of  Rome,  the  absolute  power  passed  into 
the  .hands  of  the  husband,  and  he  had  the  right,  in 
some  cases,  of  putting  her  to  death.4  Law  and  public  opinion 
combined  in  making  matrimonial  purity  most  strict.  For 


1 Capitol \nus.  Maximinus  Junior. 

2 Pliny,  Hist.  Nat.  vii.  36. 
There  is  (as  is  well  known)  a 
similar  legend  of  a daughter  thus 
feeding  her  father.  Val.  Max. 
Lib.  v.  cap.  4. 

3 This  appears  from  the  first 

net  of  the  Stichns  of  Plautus.  The 
power  appears  to  have  become  quite 
obsolete  during  the  Empire; but  the 


first  legal  act  (which  was  rather  of 
the  nature  of  an  exhortation  than 
of  a command)  against  it  was 
issued  by  Antoninus  Pius,  and  it 
was  only  definitely  abolished  under 
Diocletian.  (Laboulaye,  Reekcrches 
sur  la  condition  civile  et  politiqut 
dcs  femmes , pp.  16-17.) 

4  Aul.  Cell.  Noct.  x.  23. 


300 


HISTORY  OR  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


five  hundred  and  twenty  years,  it  was  said,  .there  was  no 
such  thing  as  a divorce  in  Rome.1  Manners  were  so  severe, 
that  a senator  was  censured  for  indecency  because  he  had 
kissed  his  wife  in  the  presence  of  then-  daughter.2  It  was 
considered  in  a high  degree  disgraceful  for  a Roman  mother 
to  delegate  to  a nurse  the  duty  of  suckling  her  child.3 
Sumptuary  laws  regulated  with  the  most  minute  severity  all 
(he  details  of  domestic  economy.4  The  courtesan  class, 
though  probably  numerous  and  certainly  uncontrolled,  were 
regarded  with  much  contempt.  The  disgrace  of  publicly 
professing  themselves  members  of  it  was  believed  to  be  a 
sufficient  punishment;5  and  an  old  law,  which  was  probably 
intended  to  teach  in  symbol  the  duties  of  married  life, 
enjoined  that  no  such  person  should  touch  the  altar  of  Juno.6 
It  was  related  of  a certain  sedile,  that  he  failed  to  obtain 
redress  for  an  assault  which  had  been  made  upon  him,  because 
it  had  occuri'ed  in  a house  of  ill-fame,  in  which  it  was  dis- 
graceful for  a Roman  magistrate  to  be  found.7  The  sanctity 
of  female  purity  was  believed  to  be  attested  by  all  nature. 
The  most  savage  animals  became  tame  before  a virgin.8 
When  a woman  walked  naked  round  a field,  caterpillars  and 
all  loathsome  insects  fell  dead  before  her.9  It  was  said  that 
drowned  men  floated  on  their  backs,  and  drowned  women  on 
their  faces  ; and  this,  in  the  opinion  of  Roman  naturalists, 
was  due  to  the  superior  purity  of  the  latter.10 


1 Val.  Maximus,  ii.  1,  § 4 ; Aul. 
Gellius,  Nod.  iv.  3. 

1 Ammianus  Marcellinus, xxviii. 

i 

3 Tacitus,  Be  Oratoribus,  xxviii. 

4 See  Aldus  Gellius,  Noct.  ii.  24. 

5 ‘ More  inter  veteres  recepto, 
qui  satis  pcenarum  adversum  inipu- 
dicas  in  ipsa  professione  flagitii 
rredebant.’ — Tacitus,  Annul,  ii.  8o. 

6 Aul.  Gell.  iv.  3.  Juno  was  the 

goddess  of  marriage. 


7 Ibid.  iv.  14. 

8 The  well-known  superstitioi 
about  the  lion,  &c.,  becoming  docile 
before  a virgin  is,  I believe,  as  obi 
as  Roman  times.  St.  Isidore 
mentions  that  rhinoceroses  were 
said  to  be  captured  by  young 
girls  being  put  in  their  way  to 
fascinate  them.  (Legendre,  Traiii 
de  l' Opinion,  tome  ii.  p.  35.) 

3 Pliny,  Hist.  Nat.  xxviii.  23. 

10  Ibid.  vii.  18. 


THE  POSITION  OE  WOMEN. 


301 


It  was  a remark  of  Aristotle,  that  the  superiority  of  the 
Greeks  to  the  barbarians  was  shown,  among  other  things, 
in  the  fact  that  the  Greeks  did  not,  like  other  nations,  regard 
their  wives  as  slaves,  but  treated  them  as  helpmates  and 
companions.  A Roman  writer  has  appealed,  on  the  whole 
iritli  greatci  justice,  to  the  treatment  of  wives  by  his  fellow 
countrymen,  as  a proof  of  the  superiority  of  Roman  to  Greek 
civilisation.  He  has  observed  that  while  the  Greeks  kept 
them  wives  in  a special  quarter  in  tire  interior  of  them  houses, 
and  never  permitted  them  to  sit  at  banquets  except  with 
them  relatives,  or  to  see  any  male  except  in  the  pi  esence  of  a 
relative,  no  Roman  ever  hesitated  to  lead  his  wife  with  him 
to  the  feast,  or  to  prince  the  mother  of  the  family  at  the  head 
of  his  table.1  Whether,  in  the  period  when  wives  were 
completely  subject  to  the  rule  of  their  husbands,  much 
domestic  oppression  occurred,  it  is  now  impossible  to  say. 
A temple  dedicated  to  a goddess  named  Viriplaca,  whose 
mission  was  to  appease  husbands,  was  worshipped  by  Roman 
women  on  the  Palatine;2  and  a strange  and  improbable,  if  not 
incredible  story,  is  related  by  Livy,  of  the  discovery  during 
the  Republic,  of  a vast  conspiracy  by  Roman  wives  to  poison 
them  husbands.3  On  the  whole,  however,  it  is  probable  that 
the  Roman  matron  was  from  the  earliest  period  a name  of 
honour  ; 4 that  the  beautiful  sentence  of  a jurisconsult  of  the 
Empire,  who  defined  marriage  as  a lifelong  fellowship  of  all 
divine  and  human  rights,-’  expressed  most  faithfully  the 


1 'Quern enim  Romanorumpudet  pinqua  cognatione  conjunctus.’ — - 
oxorem  ducere  in  convivium?  aut  Ccrn.  Nepos.  prpefat. 
cujus  materfamilias  non  primum  z Val.  Max.  ii.  1,  § (i. 

I icum  tenet  sedium,  atquo  in  cele-  3 Liv.  viii.  18. 

Iritato  versatur?  quod  multo  fit  4 See  Val.  Max.  ii.  1. 

aliter  in  Greecia.  Nam  nequo  in  5 ‘ Nuptiae  suntconjunctio  mans 

convivium  adhibetur,  nisi  propin-  et  feminEe,  et  consortium  omnia 
quorum,  ueque  sedet  nisi  in  interiora  vitae,  divini  et  liumani  juris  com- 
part o sediumqu & gyn<eco/ttis  appel-  municatio.’ — Mudestinus 
latui  nuo  nemo  accedit,  nisi  uro- 


302 


HISTORY  OP  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


feelings  of  the  people,  and  that  female  virtue  had  in  every 
age  a considerable  place  in  Homan  biographies. 1 

I have  already  enumerated  the  chief  causes  of  that 
complete  dissolution  of  Homan  morals  which  began  shortly 
after  the  P.mic  wars,  which  contributed  very  largely  to  the 
destruction  of  the  Republic,  and  which  attained  its  climax 
under  the  Caesars.  There  are  few  examples  in  history  of  a 
revolution  pervading  so  completely  every  sphere  of  religious, 
domestic,  social,  and  political  life.  Philosophical  scepticism 
corroded  the  ancient  religions.  An  inundation  of  Eastern 
luxury  and  Eastern  morals  submerged  all  the  old  habits  of 
austere  simplicity.  The  civil  wars  and  the  Empire  degraded 
the  character  of  the  people,  and  the  exaggerated  prudery  of 
republican  manners  only  served  to  make  the  rebound  into 
vice  the  more  irresistible.  In  the  fierce  outburst  of  un- 
governable and  almost  frantic  depravity  that  marked  this 
evil  period,  the  violations  of  fema':e  virtue  were  infamously 
prominent.  The  vast  multiplication  of  slaves,  which  is  in 
every  age  peculiarly  fatal  to  moral  purity  ; the  fact  that  a 
great  proportion  of  those  slaves  were  chosen  from  the  most 
voluptuous  provinces  of  the  Empire  ; the  games  of  Flora,  in 
which  races  of  naked  courtesans  were  exhibited  ; the  panto- 
mimes, which  derived  their  charms  chiefly  from  the  audacious 
indecencies  of  the  actors;  the  influx  of  the  Greek  and  Asiatic 
hetserse  who  were  attracted  by  the  wealth  of  the  metropolis  ; 
the  licentious  paintings  which  began  to  adorn  every  house  ; 
the  rise  of  Bake,  which  rivalled  the  luxury  and  surpassed  the 
beauty  of  the  chief  centres  of  Asiatic  vice,  combining  with 
the  intoxication  of  great  wealth  suddenly  acquired,  with  the 
disruption,  through  many  causes,  of  all  the  ancient  habits  and 
beliefs,  and  with  the  tendency  to  pleasure  which  the  closing 
of  the  paths  of  honourable  political  ambition  by  the  imperial 

1 Livy,  xxxiv.  5.  There  is  a Greek)  in  Clem.  Alexand.  Strom, 
fine  collection  of  legends  or  his-  iv.  19. 
tories  of  heroic  women  (but  chiefly 


THE  POSITION  OF  WOMEN. 


303 


despotism,  naturally  produced,  had  all  their  part  in  pre- 
paring those  orgies  of  vice  which  the  writers  of  the  Empire 
reveal.  Most  scholars  will,  I suppose,  retain  a vivid  re- 
collection of  the  new  insight  into  the  extent  and  wildness  of 
human  guilt  which  they  obtained  when  they  first  opened  the 
pages  of  Suetonius  or  Lampridius ; and  the  sixth  Satire  of 
Juvenal  paints  with  a fierce  energy,  though  probably  with 
the  natural  exaggeration  of  a satirist,  the  extent  to  which 
corruption  had  spread  among  the  women.  It  was  found 
necessary,  under  Tiberius,  to  make  a special  law  prohibiting 
members  of  noble  houses  from  enrolling  themselves  as  prosti- 
tutes.1 The  extreme  coarseness  of  the  Homan  disposition 
prevented  sensuality  from  assuming  that  aesthetic  character 
which  had  made  it  in  Greece  the  parent'  of  Art,  and  had 
very  profoundly  modified  its  influence,  while  the  passion  for 
gladiatorial  shows  often  allied  it  somewhat  unnaturally  with 
cruelty.  There  have  certainly  been  many  periods  in  history 
when  virtue  was  more  rare  than  under  the  Caesars ; but  there 
has  probably  never  been  a period  when  vice  was  more 
extravagant  or  rnicon trolled.  Young  emperors  especially, 
who  were  surrounded  by  swarms  of  sycophants  and  panders, 
and  who  often  lived  in  continual  dread  of  assassination, 
plunged  with  the  most  reckless  and  feverish  excitement  into 
every  variety  of  abnormal  lust.  The  reticence  which  has 
always  more  or  less  characterised  modern  society  and  modern 
writers  was  unknown,  and  the  unblushing,  undisguised 
obscenity  of  the  Epigrams  of  Martial,  of  the  Homances  of 
Apuleius  and  Petronius,  and  of  some  of  the  Dialogues  of 
Lucian,  reflected  but  too  faithfully  the  spirit  of  their  time. 

There  had  arisen,  too,  partly  through  vicious  causes,  and 
partly,  I suppose,  through  the  unfavourable  influence  which 
the  attraction  of  the  public  institutions  exercised  on  domestic 


‘ Tacitus,  Annul,  ii.  85.  This  lady  named  Yistilia  having  so  en- 
decree  was  on  account  of  a patrician  rolled  herself. 


304 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


life,  a great  and  general  indisposition  towards  marriage, 
which  Augustus  attempted  in  vain  to  arrest  by  his  laws 
against  celibacy,  and  by  conferring  many  privileges  on 
the  fathers  of  three  children.1  A singularly  curious  speech 
is  ] reserved,  which  is  said  to  have  been  delivered  on  this 
uibject,  shortly  before  the  close  of  the  Republic,  by  Metellus 
IN  umidicus,  in  order,  if  possible,  to  overcome  this  indispo- 
sition. ‘ If,  Romans,’  he  said,  ‘ we  could  live  without  wives, 
we  should  all  keep  free  from  that  source  of  trouble;  but  since 
nature  has  ordained  that  men  can  neither  live  sufficiently 
agreeably  with  wives,  nor  at  all  without  them,  let  us  consider 
the  perpetual  endurance  of  our  race  rather  than  our  own 
brief  enjoyment.’2 

In  the  midst  of  this  torrent  of  corruption  a great  change 
was  passing  over  the  legal  position  of  Roman  women.  They 
had  at  first  been  in  a condition  of  absolute  subjection  or 
subordination  to  their  relations.  They  arrived,  during  the 
Empire,  at  a point  of  freedom  and  dignity  which  they  sub- 
sequently lost,  and  have  never  altogether  regained.  The 
Romans  recognised  two  distinct  classes  of  marriages : 
the  stricter,  and,  in  the  eyes  of  the  law,  more  honourable, 
forms, which  placed  the  woman  ‘in  the  hand’  of  her  husband 
and  gave  him  an  almost  absolute  authority  over  her  person 
and  her  property ; and  a less  strict  form,  which  left  her 


1 Dion  Cassius,  liv.  16,  lri.  10. 

2 ‘ Si  sine  uxore  possemus, 
Quirites,  esse,  omnes  ea  molestia 
careremus  ; sed  quoniam  ita  natura 
tradidit,  ut  nec  cum  illis  satis  com- 
mode nec  sine  illis  ullo  modo  vivi 
possit,  saluti  perpetuus  potiusquam 
brevi  voluptati  consulendum.’ — 
Aulus  Gellius,  Nuct.  i.  6.  Some  of 
the  audience,  we  are  told,  thought 
that,  in  exhorting  to  matrimony, 
the  speaker  should  have  concealed 
its  undoubted  ovils.  It  was  decided, 
however,  that  it  was  more  honour- 


able to  tell  the  whole  truth.  Sto- 
bseus  (Sentential)  has  preserved  a 
number  of  harsh  and  often  heart- 
less sayings  about  wives,  that  were 
popular  among  the  Greeks.  It  was 
a saying  of  a Greek  poet,  that  ‘mar- 
riage brings  only  two  happy  days 
— the  day  when  the  husband  first 
clasps  his  wife  to  his  breast,  and 
the  day  when  he  lays  her  in  the 
tomb;  ’ and  in  Rome  it  became  a 
proverbial  saying,  that  a wife  was 
only  good  ‘ in  thalamo  vel  in  tu- 
muio.’ 


THE  POSITION  OF  WOMEN. 


305 


legal  position  unchanged.  The  former,  which  were  general 
during  the  Republic,  were  of  three  kinds — the  ‘ confarreatio,’ 
which  was  celebrated  and  could  only  be  dissolved  by  1 he  most 
solemn  religious  ceremonies,  and  was  jealously  restricted  to 
patricians;  the  ‘ccemptio,’  which  was  purely  civil,  and 
derived  its  name  from  a symbolical  sale;  and  the  ‘ usus, ’ 
which  was  effected  by  the  mere  cohabitation  of  a woman  with 
a man  without  interruption  for  the  space  of  a year.  Unde’1 
the  Empire,  however,  these  kinds  of  marriage  became 
almost  wholly  obsolete ; a laxer  form,  resting  upon  a simple 
mutual  agreement,  without  any  religious  or  civil  ceremony, 
was  general,  and  it  had  this  very  important  consequence, 
that  the  woman  so  married  remained,  in  the  eyes  of  the  law, 
in  the  family  of  her  father,  and  was  under  his  guardianship, 
not  under  the  guardianship  of  her  husband.  But  the  old 
patria  potestas  had  become  completely  obsolete,  anti  the 
practical  effect  of  the  general  adoption  of  this  form  of  mar- 
riage was  the  absolute  legal  independence  of  the  wife.  With 
the  exception  of  her  dowry,  which  passed  into  the  hands  of 
her  husband,  she  held  her  property  in  her  own  right ; she 
inherited  her  share  of  the  wealth  of  her  father,  and  she 
retained  it  altogether  independently  of  her  husband.  A very 
considerable  portion  of  Roman  wealth  thus  passed  into  the 
uncontrolled  possession  of  women.  The  private  man  of 
business  of  the  wife  was  a favourite  character  with  the 
comedians,  and  the  tyranny  exercised  by  rich  wives  over 
their  husbands — to  whom  it  is  said  they  sometimes  lent 
money  at  high  interest — a continual  theme  of  satirists.1 

A complete  revolution  had  thus  passed  over  the  consti- 

1 Friedlander,  Hist,  clcs  Maeurs  author  is  particularly  valuable  in 
rcviaines,  tome  i.  pp.  360-361.  Oa  all  that  relates  to  the  history  of 
the  great  influence  exercised  bv  domestic  morals.  'TheAsinaria  of 
Roman  ladies  on  political  affairs  Plautus,  and  some  of  the  epigrams 
some  remarkable  passages  are  col-  of  Martial,  throw  much  light  upon 
lected  in  Denis,  Hist,  des  Idecs  this  subject. 

Mi-vales,  tome  ii.  pp.  S8-99.  This 


30G 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


tution  of  the  family.  Instead  of  being  constructed  on  the 
principle  of  autocracy,  it  was  constructed  on  the  principle  of 
coequal  partnership.  The  legal  position  of  the  wife  had 
become  one  of  complete  independence,  while  her  social 
position  was  one  of  great  dignity.  The  more  conservative 
spirits  were  naturally  alarmed  at  the  change,  and  two 
measures  were  taken  to  arrest  it.  The  Oppian  law  was 
designed  to  restrain  the  luxury  of  women ; but,  in  spite  of 
the  strenuous  exertions  of  Cato,  this  law  was  speedily  re- 
pealed.1 A more  important  measure  was  the  Voconian  law, 
which  restricted  within  very  narrow  limits  the  property 
which  women  might  inherit;  but  public  opinion  never  fully 
acquiesced  in  it,  and  by  several  legal  subterfuges  its  operation 
was  partially  evaded.2 

Another  and  a still  more  important  consequence  resulted 
from  the  changed  form  of  marriage.  Being  looked  upon 
merely  as  a civil  contract,  entered  into  for  the  happiness  of 
the  contracting  parties,  its  continuance  depended  upon 
mutual  consent.  Either  party  might  dissolve  it  at  will,  and 
the  dissolution  gave  both  parties  a light  to  remarry.  There 
can  be  no  question  that  under  this  system  the  obligations  of 
marriage  were  treated  with  extreme  levity.  We  find  Cicero 
repudiating  his  wife  Terentia,  because  he  desired  a new 
dowry;3  Augustus  compelling  the  husband  of  Livia  to  re- 
pudiate her  when  she  was  already  pregnant,  that  he  might 
marry  her  himself ; 4 Cato  ceding  his  wife,  with  the  consent 
of  her  father,  to  his  friend  Hortensius,  and  resuming  her 


1 See  the  very  remarkable  dis- 
cussion about  tliis  repeal  in  Livy, 
lib.  xxxiv.  cap  1-8. 

2 Legouve,  Hist.  Morale  des 

Femmes,  pp.  23-26.  St.  Augustine 

denounced  this  law  as  the  most  un- 
just that  could  be  mentioned  or 
even  conceived.  1 Qua  lege  quid 
iniquius  dici  ;.ut  cogitari  possit, 


ignoro.’ — St.  Aug.  De  Civ.  Dei,  iii. 
21  a curious  illustration  of  the 
difference  between  the  habits  of 
thought  of  his  time  and  those  of 
the  middle  ages,  when  daughter* 
were  habitually  sacrificed,  with  >at 
a protest,  by  the  feudal  laws. 

3 Plutarch,  Cicero. 

4 Tacit.  Ann.  i.  10. 


THE  POSITION  OE  WOMEN. 


307 


after  his  death  • 1 2 Maecenas  continually  changing  his  wife  ; s 
Sempronius  Sophus  repudiating  his  wife,  because  she  had 
once  been  to  the  public  games  without  his  knowledge;  3 
Patilus  .ZEmilius  taking  the  same  step  without  assigning  anj 
roasjn,  and  defending  himself  by  saying,  ‘ My  shoes  are  new 
and  well  made,  but  no  one  knows  where  they  pinch  me.’4 
Nor  did  women  show  less  alacrity  in  repudiating  their 
husbands.  Seneca  denounced  this  evil  with  especial 
vehemence,  declaring  that  divorce  in  Rome  no  longer  brought 
with  it  any  shame,  and  that  there  were  women  who  reckoned 
their  years  rather  by  their  husbands  than  by  the  consuls.5 
Christians  and  Pagans  echoed  the  same  complaint.  Ac- 
cording to  Tertullia.n,  ‘ divorce  is  the  fruit  of  marriage.’6 
Martial  speaks  of  a woman  who  had  already  arrived  at  her 
tenth  husband]  7 Juvenal,  of  a woman  having  eight  husbands 
in  five  years.8  But  the  most  extraordinary  recorded  instance 
of  this  kind  is  related  by  St.  Jerome,  who  assures  us  that 
there  existed  at  Rome  a wife  who  was  married  to  her  twenty- 
third  husband,  she  herself  being  his  twenty-first  wife.9 

These  are,  no  doubt,  extreme  cases  ; but  it  is  unquestion- 
able that  the  stability  of  married  life  was  very  seriously 
impaired.  It  would  be  easy,  however,  to  exaggerate  the 
influence  of  legal  changes  in  affecting  it.  In  a purer  state  of 
public  opinion  a very  wide  latitude  of  divorce  might  probably 
have  been  allowed  to  both  parties,  without  any  serious  con 
sequence.  The  right  of  repudiation,  which  the  husband  had 
always  possessed,  was,  as  we  have  seen,  in  the  Republic 
never  or  very  rarely  exercised.  Of  those  who  scandalised 
good  men  by  the  rapid  recurrence  of  their  marriages,  probably 

1 Plutarch,  Cato ; Lucan,  Pkar-  5 Sen.  I)e  Benef.  iii.  16.  S<  a 

nil.  ii.  too.  Ep.  xcv.  Ad  Helv.  xvi. 

2 Scnec.  Ep.  cxiv.  6 Apol.  6. 

3 Val.  Max.  vi.  3.  7 Epig.  vi.  7. 

J*  4 Plutarch,  Paul.  2Em.il.  It  is  8 Juv.  Sat.  vi.  230. 

aot  quite  clear  whether  this  remark  9 Ep.  2. 

was  made  by  Paulus  himself. 


308 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


most,  If  marriage  had  been  indissoluble,  would  have  refrained 
from  entering  into  it,  and  would  have  contented  themselves 
with  many  informal  connections,  or,  if  they  had  married, 
would  have  gratified  then-  love  of  change  by  simple  adultery. 
A.  vast  wave  of  corruption  had  flowed  in  upon  Rome,  and 
under  any  system  of  law  it  would  have  penetrated  into 
domestic  life.  Laws  prohibiting  all  divorce  have  never 
secured  the  purity  of  married  life  in  ages  of  great  corruption, 
nor  did  the  latitude  which  was  accorded  in  imperial  Rome 
prevent  the  existence  of  a very  large  amount  of  female 
virtue. 

I have  observed,  hi  a former  chapter,  that  the  moral 
contrasts  shown  in  ancient  life  surpass  those  of  modem 
societies,  in  which  we  very  rarely  find  clusters  of  heroic  or 
illustrious  men  arising  in  nations  that  are  hi  general  very 
ignorant  or  very  corrupt.  I have  endeavoured  to  account 
for  this  fact  by  showing  that  the  moral  agencies  of  antiquity 
were  in  general  much  more  fitted  to  develop  virtue  than  to 
repress  vice,  and  that  they  raised  noble  natures  to  almost  the 
highest  conceivable  point  of  excellence,  while  they  entirely 
failed  to  coerce  or  to  attenuate  the  corruption  of  the  depraved. 
In  the  female  life  of  Imperial  Rome  we  find  these  contrasts 
vividly  displayed.  There  can  be  no  question  that  the  moral 
tone  of  the  sex  was  extremely  low — lower,  probably,  than 
in  France  under  the  Regency,  or  in  England  under  the 
Restoration — and  it  is  also  certain  that  frightful  excesses  of 
unnatural  passion,  of  which  the  most  corrupt  of  modem 
courts  present  no  parallel,  were  perpetrated  with  but  little 
concealment  on  the  Palatine.  Yet  there  is  probably  no 
period  in  which  examples  of  conjugal  heroism  and  fidelity 
appear  more  frequently  than  in  this  very  age,  in  which 
marriage  was  most  free  and  in  which  corruption  was  so 
general.  Much  simplicity  of  manners  continued  to  co-exist 
with  the  excesses  of  an  almost  unbridled  luxury.  Augustus, 
we  are  told,  used  to  make  his  daughters  and  granddaughters 


THE  POSITION"  OE  WOMEN. 


309 


weave  and  spin,  and  his  wife  and  sister  made  most  of  the 
clothes  he  wore.1  The  skill  of  wives  in  domestic  economy, 
and  especially  in  spinning,  was  frequently  noticed  in  their 
epitaphs.2  Intellectual  culture  was  much  diffused  among 
them,3  and  we  meet  with  several  noble  specimens,  in  the  sex, 
cf  large  and  accomplished  minds  united  with  all  the  graceful 
ness  of  intense  womanhood,  and  all  the  fidelity  of  the  truest 
love.  Such  were  Cornelia,  the  brilliant  and  devoted  wife  of 
Pompey,4  Marcia,  the  friend,  and  Helvia,  the  mother  of 
Seneca.  The  Northern  Italian  cities  had  in  a great  degree 
escaped  the  contamination  of  the  times,  and  Padua  and 
Brescia  were  especially  noted  for  the  virtue  of  their  women.5 
In  an  age  of  extravagant  sensuality  a noble  lady,  named 
Mallonia,  plunged  her  dagger  in  her  heart  rather  than  yield 
to  the  embraces  of  Tiberius.6  To  the  period  when  the  legal 
bond  of  marriage  was  most  relaxed  must  be  assigned  most  of 
those  noble  examples  of  the  constancy  of  Roman  wives, 
which  have  been  for  so  many  generations  household  tales 
among  mankind.  Who  has  not  read  with  emotion  of  the 
tenderness  and  heroism  of  Porcia,  claiming  her  right  to  share 
in  the  trouble  which  clouded  her  husband’s  brow;  how, 
doubting  her  own  courage,  she  did  not  venture  to  ask 
Brutus  to  reveal  to  her  his  enterprise  till  she  had  secretly 
tried  her  power  of  endurance  by  piercing  her  thigh  with  a 
knife;  how  once,  and  but  once  in  his  presence,  her  noble 
spirit  failed,  when,  as  she  was  about  to  separate  from  him 
for  the  last  time,  her  eye  chanced  to  fall  upon  a picture  of 
the  parting  interview  of  Hector  and  Andromache  1 7 Paulina, 


1 Sneton.  Aug.  Charlemagne,  1 Much  evidence  of  this  is  col- 
in  like  manner,  made  his  daughters  lected  by  Friedlauder,  tome  i.  pp, 
work  in  wool.  (Eginhardus,  Vit.  387-395. 

Car.  Mug.  xix.)  4 Plutarch,  Pompeius. 

2 Friedlander,  Maeurs  romaines  b Martial,  xi.  1G.  Pliny,  Ep.  i, 

d.u  regne  d’ Auguste  a la  fin  des  11. 

intonins  (trad.  fran<;.),  tome  i.  p.  6 Suet.  Tiberius,  xlv. 

1 4.  7 Plutarch,  Brutus. 


310 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


the  wife  of  Seneca,  opened  her  own  veins  in  order  to 
accompany  her  nnsband  to  the  grave ; when  much  blood 
had  already  flowed,  her  slaves  and  freedmen  hound  her 
wounds,  and  thus  compelled  her  to  live ; but  the  Romans 
ever  after  observed  with  reverence  the  sacred  pallor  of 
her  countenance — the  memorial  of  her  act.1  When  Pint  us 
was  condemned  to  die  by  his  own  hand,  those  who  knew  the 
love  which  Lis  wife  Arria  bore  him,  and  the  heroic  fervour 
of  her  character,  predicted  that  she  would  not  long  survive 
him.  Tkrasea,  who  had  married  her  daughter,  endeavoured 
to  dissuade  her  from  suicide  by  saying,  ‘ If  1 am  ever  called 
upon  lo  perish,  would  you  wish  your  daughter  to  die  with 
me?’  She  answered,  ‘Yes,  if  she  will  have  then  lived  with 
you  as  long  and  as  happily  as  I with  Paetus.’  Her  friends 
attempted,  by  carefully  watching  her,  to  secure  her  safety, 
but  she  dashed  her  head  against  the  wall  with  such  force  that 
she  fell  upon  the  ground,  and  then,  rising  up,  she  said,  ‘ I 
told  you  I would  find  a hard  way  to  death  if  you  refuse  me 
an  easy  way.’  All  attempts  to  restrain  her  were  then 
abandoned,  and  her  death  was  perhaps  the  most  majestic  in 
antiquity.  Paetus  for  a moment  hesitated  to  strike  the  fatal 
blow;  but  his  wife,  taking  the  dagger,  plunged  it  deeply 
into  her  own  breast,  and  then,  drawing  it  out,  gave  it,  all 
reeking  as  it  was,  to  her  husband,  exclaiming,  with  her 
dying  breath,  ‘ My  Paetus,  it  does  not  pain.’2 

The  form  of  the  elder  Arria  towers  grandly  above  her 
fellows,  but  many  other  Roman  wives  in  the  days  of  the 
early  Caesars  and  of  Domitian  exhibited  a very  similar  fidelity. 
Over  the  dark  waters  of  the  Euxine,  into  those  unknown 
and  inhospitable  regions  from  which  the  Roman  imagination 
recoiled  with  a peculiar  horror,  many  noble  ladies  freely 
followed  then-  husbands,  and  there  were  some  wives  who 


1 Tacit.  Anna!,,  xv.  63,  64,  iii.  16  ; Martial,  Ep.  i.  14. 

2 ‘ Paste,  non  dolet..’ — Plin.  Ep. 


THE  POSITION  OE  WOMEN. 


311 


refused  to  survive  them.1  The  younger  Arria  was  the  faith- 
ful companion  of  Thrasea  during  his  heroic  life,  and  when  he 
died  she  was  only  persuaded  to  live  that  she  might  bring  up 
their  daughters.2  She  spent  the  closing  days  of  her  life  with 
Domitian  in  exile  ; 3 while  her  daughter,  who  was  as  remark- 
able for  the  gentleness  as  for  the  dignity  of  her  character,4 
svent  twice  into  exile  noth  her  husband  Hel vidius,  and  was 
once  banished,  after  his  death,  for  defending  his  memory.5 
Incidental  notices  in  historians,  and  a few  inscriptions  which 
have  happened  to  remain,  show  us  that  such  instances  were 
not  uncommon,  and  in  Eoman  epitaphs  no  feature  is  more 
remarkable  than  the  deep  and  passionate  expressions  of  con- 
jugal love  that  continually  occur.6  It  would  be  difficult  to 
find  a more  touching  image  of  that  love,  than  the  medallion 
which  is  so  common  on  the  Eoman  sarcophagi,  in  which 
husband  and  wife  are  represented  together,  each  with  an  arm 
thrown  fondly  over  the  shoulder  of  the  other,  united  in  death 
as  they  had  been  in  life,  and  meeting  it  with  an  aspect  of 
perfect  calm,  because  they  were  companions  in  the  tomb. 

In  the  latter  days  of  the  Eagan  Empire  some  measures 
were  taken  to  repress  the  profligacy  that  was  so  prevalent. 
Domitian  enforced  the  old  Scantinian  law  against  unnatural 
love.7  Vespasian  moderated  the  luxury  of  the  court ; 
Macrinus  caused  those  who  had  committed  adultery  to  be 
bound  together  and  burnt  alive.8  A practice  of  men  and 
women  bathing  together  was  condemned  by  Hadrian,  and 
afterwards  by  Alexander  Severus,  but  was  only  finally  sup- 

1 Tacit.  Annul,  xvi.  10-11 ; 5 See  Plin.  Ep.  vii.  10.  Dion 

Hist.  i.  3.  See,  too,  Friedlander,  Cassius  and  Tacitus  relate  tlie 
tome  i.  p.  406.  exiles  of  Helvidius,  who  appears 

2 Tacit.  Ann.  xvi.  34.  to  have  been  rather  intemperate 

8 Pliny  mentions  her  return  and  unreasonable. 

after  the  death  of  the  tyrant  ( Ep . 6 Friedlander  gives  many  and 

iii.  11).  most  touching  examples,  tome  i.pp 

' ' Quod  paucis  datum  est,  non  410-414. 

minus  amabilis  quam  veneranda.’  7 Suet.  Bom.  viii. 

— Plin.  Ep.  vii,  19.  8 Capitolinus,  Macrinus 


312 


HISTOKY  OP  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


pressed  by  Constantine.  Alexander  Severus  and  Philip 
waged  an  energetic  war  against  panders.1  The  extreme 
excesses  of  this,  as  of  most  forms  of  vice,  were  probably 
much  diminished  after  the  accession  of  the  Antonines;  but 
Pome  continued  to  be  a centre  of  very  great  corruption  till 
the  influence  of  Christianity,  the  removal  of  the  court  to 
Constantinople,  and  the  impoverishment  that  followed  tl  e 
barbarian  conquests,  in  a measure  corrected  the  evil. 

Among  the  moralists,  however,  some  important  steps 
were  taken.  One  of  the  most  important  was  a very  clear 
assertion  of  the  reciprocity  of  that  obligation  to  fidelity  in 
marriage  which  in  the  early  stages  of  society  had  been  im- 
posed almost  exclusively  upon  wives.2  The  legends  of 
Clytemnestra  and  of  Medea  reveal  the  feelings  of  fierce 
resentment  which  were  sometimes  produced  among  Greek 
wives  by  the  almost  unlimited  indulgence  that  was  accorded 
to  their  husbands;3  and  it  is  told  of  Andromache,  as  the 
supreme  instance  of  her  love  of  Hector,  that  she  cared  for  his 
illegitimate  children  as  much  as  for  her  own.4  In  early 
Pome,  the  obligations  of  husbands  were  never,  I imagine, 
altogether  unfelt ; but  they  were  rarely  or  never  enforced, 
nor  were  they  ever  regarded  as  bearing  any  kind  of  equality 
to  those  imposed  upon  the  wife.  The  term  adultery,  and  all 
the  legal  penalties  connected  with  it,  were  restricted  to  the 
infractions  by  a wife  of  the  nuptial  tie.  Among  the  many 
instances  of  magnanimity  recorded  of  Poman  wives,  few  are 
more  touching  than  that  of  Tertia  hEmilia,  the  faithful  wife 
of  Scipio.  She  discovered  that  her  husband  had  become 

1 Lampridius,  A.  Severus.  legitimate  children,  and  to  be  our 

1 In  the  oration  against  Nesera,  faithful  housekeepers.’ 

which  is  ascribed  to  Demosthenes,  3 There  is  a remarkable  passage 
hut  is  of  doubtful  genuineness,  the  on  the  feelings  of  wives,  in  differ- 
licence  accorded  to  husbands  is  ent  nations,  upon  this  point,  io 
apeken  of  as  a matter  of  course  : Athenseus,  xiii.  3.  See,  too,  Flu- 

* We  keep  mistresses  for  our  plea-  tarch,  Conj.  Prcec. 
sures,  concubines  for  constant  at-  4 Euripid.  Andromache. 
tendance,  and  wives  to  bear  us 


TILE  POSITION  OF  WOMEN. 


313 


enamoured  of  one  of  her  slaves ; hut  she  bore  her  pain  in 
Biience,  and  when  he  died  she  gave  liberty  to  her  captive,  for 
she  could  not  bear  that  she  should  remain  in  servitude  whom 
her  dear  lord  had  loved.1 

Aristotle  had  clearly  asserted  the  duty  of  husbands  to  ob- 
serve in  marriage  the  same  fidelity  as  they  expected  from  then 
wives,2  and  at  a later  period  both  Plutarch  and  Seneca  enforced 
this  duty  in  the  strongest  and  most  unequivocal  manner.3 
The  degree  to  which,  in  theory  at  least,  it  won  its  way  in 
Homan  life  is  shown  by  its  recognition  as  a legal  maxim  by 
Ulpian,4  and  by  its  appearance  in  a formal  judgment  of 
Antoninus  Pius,  who,  while  issuing,  at  the  request  of  a 
husband,  a condemnation  for  adultery  against  a guilty  wife, 
appended  to  it  this  remarkable  condition  : ‘ Provided  always 
it  is  established  that  by  your  life  you  gave  her  an  example  of 
fidelity.  It  would  be  unjust  that  a husband  should  exact  a 
fidelity  he  does  not  himself  keep.’ 5 


1 Valer.  Max.  vi.  7,  § 1.  Some 
very  scandalous  instances  of  cyni- 
cism on  the  part  of  Roman  hus- 
bands are  recorded.  Thus,  Augustus 
had  many  mistresses,  ‘ Quae  [vir- 
gines]  sibi  undique  etiam  ab  uxore 
conquirerentur.’ — Sueton.  Auglxxi. 
When  the  wife  of  Verus,  the  col- 
league of  Marcus  Aurelius,  com- 
plained of  the  tastes  of  her  husband, 
he  answered,  ‘ Uxor  enim  dignitatis 
nomen  est,  non  voluptatis.’ — Spar- 
tian.  Verus. 

2 Aristotle,  Econom.  i.  4-8-9. 

3 Plutarch  enforces  the  duty  at 

length,  in  his  very  beautiful  work 

on  marriage.  In  ease  husbands  are 
guilty  of  infidelity,  he  recommends 
their  wives  to  preserve  a prudent 
blindness,  reflecting  that  it  is  out 
of  respect  for  them  that  they  choose 
another  woman  as  the  companion 
of  their  intemperance.  Seneca 
touches  briefly,  but  unequivocally. 


on  the  subject:  ‘Scis  improbum 
essequi  ab  uxore  pudicitiam  exigit, 
ipse  alienaruui  corruptor  uxorum. 
Scis  ut  illi  nil  cum  adultero,  sic 
nihil  tibi  esse  debere  cum  pellice.’ 
— Ep.  xciv.  ‘ Sciet  in  uxorem 
gravissimum  esse  genus  injuries, 
habere  pellicem.’ — Ep.  xcv. 

1 ‘Periniquum  enim  videtur 
esse,  ut  pudicitiam  vir  ab  uxore 
exigat,  quam  ipse  non  exhibeat.’ — ■ 
Cod.  Just.  Dig.  xlviii.  5-1.3. 

5 Quoted  by  St.  Augustine,  De 
Conj.  Adult,  ii.  19.  Plautus,  long 
before,  had  made  one  of  his  charac- 
ters complain  of  the  injustice  of 
the  laws  which  punished  unchaste 
wives  but  not  unchaste  husbands, 
and  ask  why,  since  every  hone3t 
woman  is  contented  with  one  hus- 
band, every  honest  man  should  not 
be  contented  with  one  wife?  (Ufor- 
cator,  Act  iv.  scene  5.) 


314 


HISTORY  OP  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


Another  change,  which -may  be  dimly  descried  in  ti  c 
later  Pagan  society,  was  a tendency  to  regard  purity  rather 
in  a mystical  point  of  view,  as  essentially  good,  than  in  the 
utilitarian  point  of  view.  This  change  resulted  chiefly  from 
the  rise  of  the  Neoplatonic  and  Pythagorean  philosophies, 
which  concurred  in  regarding  the  body,  with  its  passions,  as 
essentially  evil,  and  in  representing  all  virtue  as  a purifica- 
tion from  its  taint.  Its  most  important  consequence  was  a 
somewhat  stricter  view  of  pre-nuptial  unchastity,  which  in 
the  case  of  men,  and  when  it  was  not  excessive,  and  did  not 
take  the  form  of  adultery,  had  previously  been  uncensured, 
or  was  looked  upon  with  a disapprobation  so  slight  as 
scarcely  to  amount  to  censure.  The  elder  Cato  had  ex- 
pressly justified  it;1  and  Cicero  has  left  us  an  extremely 
curious  judgment  on  the  subject,  which  shows  at  a glance 
the  feelings  of  the  people,  and  the  vast  revolution  that, 
under  the  influence  of  Christianity,  has  been  effected  in,  at 
least,  the  professions  of  mankind.  ‘ If  there  be  any  one,’  he 
says,  ‘ who  thinks  that  young  men  should  be  altogether  re- 
strained from  the  love  of  courtesans,  he  is  indeed  very 
severe.  I am  not  prepared  to  deny  his  position;  hut  he 
differs  not  only  from  the  licence  of  our  age,  but  also  from  the 
customs  and  allowances  of  our  ancestors.  When,  indeed, 
was  this  not  done!  When  was  it  blamed?  When  was  it 
not  allowed?  When  was  that  which  is  now  lawful  not 
lawful  ? ’ 2 Epictetus,  who  on  most  subjects  was  among  the 
most  austere  of  the  Stoics,  recommends  his  disciples  to  ab- 

1 Horace,  Sat.  i.  2.  permissum  ? Quando  denique  fuit 

2 ‘ Verum  si  quis  cst  qui  etiara  ut  quod  licet  non  iiceret  ? ’ — Cicero, 
neretriciis  amoribus  interdictum  Fro  Ctslio,  cap.  xx.  The  whole 
juventuti  put.et,  est  ills  quidem  speech  is  well  worthy  of  the  atten- 
rakle  severus  ; negare  non  possum  ; tion  of  those  who  would  understand 
ged  abhorret  non  modo  ab  liujus  Roman  feelings  on  these  matters; 
Bieculi  liceutia,  verum  etiam  a ma-  but  it  should  be  remembered  that 
jorum  consuetudine  atque  eonc6ssis.  it  is  the  speech  of  a lawyer  defeni 
Quando  enim  hoc  factum  non  est?  mg  a dissolute  client. 

Quando  reprehensum?  Quando  non 


THE  POSITION  OE  WOMEN'. 


315 


Bt&in , ‘ as  far  as  possible,  from  pre-nuptial  connections,  ami 
at  least  from  those  which  were  adulterous  and  unlawful,  but 
not  to  blame  those  who  were  less  strict.1  The  feeling  of  the 
Romans  is  curiously  exemplified  in  the  life  of  Alexander 
Severus,  who,  of  all  the  emperors,  was  probably  the  most 
energetic  in  legislating  against  vice.  When  appointing  a 
provincial  governor,  he  was  accustomed  to  provide  him  with 
horses  and  servants,  and,  if  he  was  unmarried,  with  a con- 
cubine, ‘ because,’  as  the  historian  very  gravely  observes,  ‘ it 
was  impossible  that  he  could  exist  without  one.’ 2 

What  was  written  among  the  Pagans  in  opposition  to 
these  views  was  not  much,  but  it  is  worthy  of  notice,  as 
illustrating  the  tendency  that  had  arisen.  Musonius  Rufus 
distinctly  and  emphatically  asserted  that  no  union  of  the 
sexes  other  than  marriage  was  permissible.3  Dion  Chrysos- 
tom desired  prostitution  to  bo  suppressed  by  law.  The 
ascetic  notion  of  the  impurity  even  of  marriage  may  be 
faintly  ti  iced.  Apollonius  of  Tyana  lived,  on  this  ground, 
a life  oi  celibacy.4 *  Zenobia  refused  to  cohabit  with  her 
husband  except  so  far  as  was  necessary  for  the  production  of 
an  heir  ' Hypatia  is  said,  like  many  Christian  saints,  to 
nave  maintained  the  position  of  a virgin  wife.6  The  belief 


1 II  /'  juppoSlaia,  els  Svvap.Lv  ir pb 
/ dpov  I jjJapevTeov.  curropevip  8e, 
tbv  vou.Lfj.6v  eaTi,  peraK'qTTeov.  pr] 
uev  tol  thrax®t]s  7 Lvov  to  is  xpaipevois, 
in]Se  eXeyKTiuis,  fi.T]8e  iroWaxov  t6, 
Oti  avibs  oi 1 XPV?  seapdcpepe. — Eil- 
chir.  xxxiii. 

2 ‘ Et  si  uxores  non  haberent, 

singulas  concubinas,  quod  sine  his 

esse  non  possent.’— -Lampridius,  A. 

Severus.  We  have  an  amusing 
picture  of  the  common  tone  of 
people  of  the  world  on  this  matter, 
in  the  speech  Apuleius  puts  into 

the  mouth  of  the  gods,  remonstrat- 
ing with  Venus  for  being  angry 


because  her  son  formed  a connec- 
tion with  Psyche.  ( Metam . lib.  v.) 

3 Preserved  by  Stobseus.  See 
Denis,  Hist,  des  Idees  morales  dans 
r Antiquite,  tome  ii.  pp.  134-136, 
149-150. 

4 Philos.  Apol.  i.  13.  When  a 
saying  of  Pythagoras,  ‘ that  a man 
should  only  have  commerce  with 
his  own  wife,’  was  quoted,  he  said 
that  this  concerned  others. 

5 Trebellius  Pollio,  Zenobia. 

6 This  is  asserted  by  an  anony- 
mous writer  quoted  by  Suidas.  Sea 
Menage,  Hist.  Midicrum  Philosn- 
pharuin , p.  58. 


310 


niSTORY  OR  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


in  the  impurity  of  all  corporeal  things,  and  in  the  duty 
of  rising  above  them,  was  in  the  third  century  strenu- 
ously enforced.1 2  Marcus  Aurelius  and  Julian  were  both 
admirable  representatives  of  the  best  Pagan  spirit  of  their 
time.  Each  of  them  lost  his  wife  early,  each  was  eulogised 
by  his  biographer  for  the  virtue  he  manifested  after  her 
death;  but  there  is  a curious  and  characteristic  difference  in 
the  forms  which  that  virtue  assumed.  Marcus,  Aurelius,  wo 
are  told,  did  not  wish  to  bring  into  liis  house  a stepmother  to 
ride  over  his  children,  and  accordingly  took  a concubine.3 
Julian  ever  after  lived  in  perfect  continence.3 

The  foregoing  facts,  which  I have  given  in  the  most  con- 
densed form,  and  almost  unaccompanied  by  criticism  or  by 
comment,  will  be  sufficient,  I hope,  to  exhibit  the  state  of 
feeling  of  the  Romans  on  this  subject,  and  also  the  direction 
in  which  that  feeling  was  being  modiiied.  Those  who  are 
familiar  with  this  order  of  studies  will  readily  understand 
that  it  is  impossible  to  mark  out  with  precision  the  chrono- 
logy of  a moral  sentiment ; but  there  can  be  no  question  that 
in  the  latter  days  of  the  Roman  Empire  the  perceptions  of 
men  on  this  subject  became  more  subtle  and  more  refined 
than  they  had  previously  been,  and  it  is  equally  certain  that 
the  Oriental  philosophies  which  had  superseded  Stoicism 
largely  influenced  the  change.  Christianity  soon  constituted 
itself  the  representative  of  the  new  tendency.  It  regarded 
purity  as  the  most  important  of  all  virtues,  and  it  strained  to 
the  utmost  all  the  vast  agencies  it  possessed,  to  enforce  it. 
In  the  legislation  of  the  first  Christian  emperors  we  find 
many  traces  of  a fiery  zeal.  Panders  were  condemned  to 
have  molten  lead  poured  down  their  throats.  In  the  case  of 
rape,  not  only  the  ra.visher,  but  even  the  injured  person,  if 
is  he  consented  to  the  act,  was  put  to  death.4  A great  service 

1 See,  e.g.,  Plotinus,  1st  Eun.  3 Amra.  Marcell.  xxv.  4. 

vi.  6.  1 Cod.  Theod.  lib.  ix.  tit.  24. 

2 Capitolinus,  M.  Aurelius. 


THE  POSITION"  OF  WOMEN". 


317 


was  done  to  the  cause  both  of  purity  and  of  philanthropy,  by 
a law  which  permitted  actresses,  on  receiving  baptism,  to 
abandon  their  profession,  which  had  been  made  a form  of 
slavery,  and  was  virtually  a slavery  to  vice.1  Certain 
musical  girls,  who  were  accustomed  to  sing  or  play  at  the 
banquets  of  the  lich,  and  who  were  regarded  with  extreme 
horror  by  the  Fathers,  were  suppressed,  and  a very  stringent 
la«  forbade  the  revival  of  the  class.2  ' - 

Side  by  side  with  the  civil  legislation,  the  penitential 
legislation  of  the  Church  was  exerted  in  the  same  direction. 
Sins  of  unchastity  probably  occupy  a larger  place  than  any 
others  in  its  enactments.  The  cases  of  unnatural  love,  and  of 
mothers  who  had  made  their  daughters  courtesans,  were 
punished  by  perpetual  exclusion  from  communion,  and  a 
crowd  of  minor  offences  were  severely  visited.  The  ascetic 
passion  increased  the  prominence  of  this  branch  of  ethics, 
and  the  imaginations  of  men  were  soon  fascinated  by  the 
pure  and  noble  figures  of  the  virgin  martyrs  of  the  Church, 
who  on  more  than  one  occasion  fully  equalled  the  courage  of 
men,  while  they  sometimes  mingled  with  their  heroism  traits 
of  the  most  exquisite  feminine  gentleness.  For  the  patient 
endurance  of  excruciating  physical  suffering,  Christianity 
produced  no  more  sublime  figure  than  Blandina,  the  poor 
servant-girl  who  was  martyred  at  Lyons ; and  it  would  be 
difficult  to  find  in  all  history  a more  touching  picture  of 
natural  purity  than  is  contained  in  one  simple  incident  of 
the  martyrdom  of  St.  Perpetua.  ft  is  related  of  that  saint 
that  she  was  condemned  to  be  slaughtered  by  a wild  bull, 
and,  as  she  fell  half  dead  from  its  horns  upon  the  sand  of  the 

1 Cod.  Thcod.  lib.  xv.  tit.  7.  ■ — Cod.  7 head.  xv.  7,  10.  This  curi- 

2 ‘ Fidicinam  nulli  liceat  vel  ous  law  was  issued  in  a n.  3S5.  St. 
emeie  vel  docere  vel  vendere,  vel  Jerome  said  these  musicians  were 
conviviis  aut  spectaeulis  adhibere.  the  chorus  of  the  devil,  and  quite 
Nee  cuiquum  aut  delectationis  de-  as  dangerous  as  the  sirens  Sssi 
siderio  erudita  feminea  aut  musieae  the  comments  on  the  law. 

art  is  st  uilio  liceat  habere  mancipia.’ 


318 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


arena,  it  was  observed  that  even  in  that  awful  moment  hei 
virgin  modesty  was  supreme,  and  her  first  instinctive  move- 
ment was  to  draw  together  her  dress,  which  had  been  torn 
in  the  assault.1 

A crowd  of  very  curious  popular  legends  also  arose, 
which,  though  they  are  for  the  most  part  without  much 
intrinsic  excellence,  have  their  importance  in  history,  as 
showing  the  force  with  which  the  imaginations  of  men  were 
turned  in  this  direction,  and  the  manner  in  which  Christianity 
was  regarded  as  the  great  enemy  of  the  passions  of  the  flesh. 
Thus,  St.  Jerome  relates  an  incredible  story  of  a young 
Christian,  being,  in  the  Diocletian  persecution,  bound  with 
ribands  of  silk  in  the  midst  of  a lovely  garden,  surrounded 
by  everything  that  could  charm  the  ear  and  the  eye,  while  a 
beautiful  courtesan  assailed  him  with  her  blandishments, 
against  which  he  protected  himself  by  biting  out  his  tongue 
and  spitting  it  in  her  face.2  Legends  are  recounted  of  young 


1 Ruinart,  Act.  S.  Perpetua. 
These  acts,  are,  I believe,  generally 
regarded  as  authentic.  There  is 
nothing  more  instructive  in  history 
than  to  trace  the  same  moral  feel- 
ings through  different  ages  and  re- 
ligions; and  I am  able  in  this  ease 
to  present  the  reader  with  an  illus- 
tration of  their  permanence,  which 
I think  somewhat  remarkable.  The 
younger  Pliny  gives  in  one  of  his 
letters  a pathetic  account  of  the 

execution  of  Cornelia,  a vestal 
virgin,  by  the  order  of  Domitian. 
She  was  buried  alive  for  incest ; 
but  her  innocence  appears  to  have 
been  generally  believed ; and  she 
had  been  condemned  unheard,  and 
in  her  absence.  As  she  was  being 
lowered  into  the  subterranean  cell 
her  dress  was  caught  and  deranged 
in  the  descent.  She  turned  round 
and  drew  it  to  her,  and  when  the 
executioner  stretched  out  his  hand 


to  assist  her,  she  started  back  lest 
he  should  touch  her,  for  this,  ac- 
cording to  the  received  opinion,  was 
a pollution;  and  even  in  the  su- 
preme moment  of  her  agony  her 
vestal  purity  shrank  from  the  un- 
holy contact.  (Plin.  Ep.  iv.  11.) 
If  we  now  pass  back  several  cen- 
turies, we  find  Euripides  attribut- 
ing to  Polyxena  a trait  precisely 
similar  to  that  which  was  attri- 
buted to  Perpet.ua.  As  she  fell 
beneath  the  sword  of  the  execu- 
tioner, it  was  observed  that  her 
last  care  was  that  she  might  fall 
with  decency. 

U Se  leal  dvrimcovcr'  o.ucas 
•koWtiv  irpivoiav  fixer  euuyij/iuu 
7 recrflr, 

Kpvnrova’  &.  Kpvirreiv  ofiixar'  apee- 
vaiv  xpecov. 

Euripides,  Hcc.  566  68. 

2 Vita  Pauli. 


THE  POSITION  OF  WOMEN. 


319 


Cliristian  men  assuming  the  garb  and  manners  of  libertines, 
that  they  might  obtain  access  to  maidens  who  had  been 
condemned  to  vice,  exchanging  dresses  with  them,  and  thus 
enabling  them  to  escape.1 2  St.  Agnes  was  said  to  have  been 
stripped  naked  before  the  people,  who  all  turned  away  their 
eyes  except  one  young  man,  who  instantly  becamo  blind.3 
The  sister  of  St.  Gregory  of  Nyssa  was  afflicted  with  a cancer 
in  her  breast,  but  could  not  bear  that  a surgeon  should  see  it, 
and  was  rewarded  for  her  modesty  by  a miraculous  cure.3 
To  the  fabled  zone  of  beauty  the  Christian  saints  opposed 
their  zones  of  chastity,  which  extinguished  the  passion  of  the 
wearer,  or  would  only  meet  around  the  pure.4  Daemons 
were  said  not  unfrequently  to  have  entered  into  the  profli- 
gate. The  garment  of  a girl  who  was  possessed  was  brought 
to  St.  Pachomius,  and  he  discovered  from  it  that  she  had  a 
lover.5  A courtesan  accused  St.  Gregory  Thaumaturgus  of 
having  been  her  lover,  and  having  refused  to  pay  her  what 
he  had  promised.  He  paid  the  required  sum,  but  she  was 
immediately  possessed  by  a daemon.6  The  efforts  of  the 
saints  to  reclaim  courtesans  from  the  path  of  vice  created 


1 St.  Ambrose  relates  an  in- 
stance of  this,  which  he  says  oc- 
curred at  Antioch  (De  Virginibus, 
lib.  ii.  cap.  iv.).  When  the  Chris- 
tian youth  was  being  led  to  execu 
tion,  the  girl  whom  he  had  saved 
reappeared  and  died  with  him. 
Eusebius  tells  a very  similar  story, 
but  places  the  scene  at  Alexandria. 

2 See  Ceillier,  Hist,  dcs  Auteurs 
eecles.  tome  iii.  p.  523. 

3 Ibid,  tome  viii.  pp.  201-207. 

4 Among  the  Irish  saints  St. 
Colman  is  said  to  have  had  a girdle 

which  would  only  meet  around  the 
t haste,  and  which  was  long  pre- 
served in  Ireland  as  a relic  (Colgan, 
Acta  Sanctorum  Hibernia , Lou- 

vain. 1645,  vol.  i.  p.  246);  and  St. 


Fursseus  a girdle  that  extinguished 
lust.  (Ibid.  p.  292.)  The  girdle 
of  St.  Thomas  Aquinas  seems  to 
have  had  some  miraculous  pro 
perties  of  this  kind.  (See  his  Life  in 
the  Bollandists,  Sept.  29.)  Among 
both  the  Greeks  and  Homans  it  was 
customary  for  the  bride  to  be  girt 
with  a girdle  which  the  bridegroom 
unloosed  in  the  nuptial  bed,  and 
hence  ‘ zonam  solvere  ’ became  a 
proverbial  expression  for  ‘ pudici- 
tiam  mulieris  imminuere.’  (Nieu- 
poort,  De  Ritibus  Romancrrum , p. 
479 ; Alexander’s  History  of  Women, 
vol.  ii.  p.  209.) 

5 Vit.  St.  Fackom.  (Hosweyde). 

6 See  his  Life,  by  Gregory  of 
Nyssa. 


320 


HISTORY  OR  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


st  large  class  of  legends.  St.  Mary  Magdalene,  St.  Maty  cf 
Egypt,  St.  Afra,  St.  Pelagia,  St.  Thais,  and  St.  Tlieodota,  in 
the  early  Church,  as  well  as  St.  Marguerite  of  Cortona,  and 
Clara  of  Rimini,  in  the  middle  ages,  had  been  courtesans.1 
St.  Vitalius,  it  is  said,  was  accustomed  every  night  to  visit 
the  dens  of  vice  in  his  neighbourhood,  to  give  the  inmates 
money  to  remain  without  sin  for  that  night,  and  to  offer  up 
prayers  for  their  conversion.2  It  is  related  of  St.  Serapion, 
that,  as  he  was  passing  through  a village  in  Egypt,  a courtesan 
beckoned  to  him.  He  promised  at  a certain  hour  to  visit 
her.  He  kept  his  appointment,  but  declared  that  there  was 
a duty  which  his  order  imposed  on  him.  He  fell  down  on 
his  knees  and  began  repeating  the  Psalter,  concluding  every 
psalm  with  a prayer  for  his  hostess.  The  strangeness  of  the 
scene,  and  the  solemnity  of  his  tone  and  manner,  overawed 
and  fascinated  her.  Gradually  her  tears  began  to  flow. 
She  knelt  beside  him  and  began  to  join  in  his  prayers.  He 
heeded  her  not,  but  hour  after  hour  continued  in  the  same 
stern  and  solemn  voice,  without  rest  and  without  interruption, 
to  repeat  his  alternate  prayers  and  psalms,  till  her  repentance 
rose  to  a paroxysm  of  terror,  and,  as  the  grey  morning 
streaks  began  to  illumine  the  horizon,  she  fell  half  dead  at 
his  feet,  imploring  him  with  broken  sobs  to  lead  her  anywhere 
where  she  might  expiate  the  sins  of  her  past.3 

But  the  services  rendered  by  the  ascetics  in  imprinting 
on  the  minds  of  men  a profound  and  enduring  conviction  of 
the  importance  of  chastity,  though  extremely  great,  were 


1  A little  book  has  been  written 
on  these  legends  by  M.  Charles 
de  Bussy,  called  Les  Courtisanes 
saintes.  There  is  said  to  be  some 
doubt  about  St.  Afra,  for,  while  her 

acts  represent  her  as  a reformed 
courtesan,  St.  Fortunatus,  in  two 
lines  he  has  devoted  to  her,  calls 

her  a virgin.  (Ozanam,  Etudes 


german,  tome  ii.  p.  8.) 

2 See  the  Vit.  Sancti  Joannis 
Eleemosynarii  (Rosweyde). 

3 Tiilemont,  tome  x.  pp.  6RC2. 
There  is  also  a very  picturesque 
legend  of  the  manner  in  which  St. 
Paplmutius  converted  the  courtesan 
Thais. 


TIIE  POSITION'  OF  WOHENT. 


321 


seriously  counterbalanced  by  their  noxious  influence  upon 
marriage.  Two  or  three  beautiful  descriptions  of  this 
institution  have  been  culled  out  of  the  immense  mass  of  the 
patristic  writings;1  but,  in  general,  it  would  be  difficult  to 
conceive  anything  more  coarse  or  more  repulsive  than  the 
manner  in  which  they  regarded  it.2  The  relation  which 
nature  has  designed  for  the  noble  purpose  of  repairing  the 
ravages  of  death,  and  which,  as  Linmeus  has  shown,  extends 
even  through  the  world  of  flowers,  rvas  invariably  treated  as 
a consequence  of  the  fall  of  Adam,  and  marriage  was  regarded 
almost  exclusively  in  its  lowest  aspect.  The  tender  love 
which  it  elicits,  the  holy  and  beautiful  domestic  qualities 
that  follow  in  its  train,  were  almost  absolutely  omitted  from 
consideration.3  The  object  of  the  ascetic  was  to  attract  men 
to  a life  of  virginity,  and,  as  a necessary  consequence,  marriage 
was  treated  as  an  inferior  state.  It  was  regarded  as  being 
necessary,  indeed,  and  therefore  justifiable,  for  the  propa- 
gation of  the  species,  and  to  free  men  from  greater  evils  ; 
but  still  as  a condition  of  degradation  from  which  all  who 
aspired  to  real  sanctity  should  fly.  To  ‘cut  down  by  the  axe 
of  Virginity  the  wood  of  Marriage,’  was,  in  the  energetic 
language  of  St.  Jerome,  the  end  of  the  saint;4  and  if  he 


1 See  especially,  Tertullian,  Ad 
Uocnrem.  It  was  beautifully  said, 
at  a later  period,  that  woman  was 
not  taken  from  the  head  of  man, 
for  she  was  not  intended  to  be  his 
ruler,  nor  from  his  feet,  for  she 
was  not  intended  to  be  his  slave, 
but  from  his  side,  for  she  was  to 
be  his  companion  and  his  comfort. 
(Peter  Lombard,  Senten.  lib.  ii. 
d is.  1 8.) 

2 The  reador  may  find  many 
passages  on  this  subject  in  Bar- 
leyrac,  Morale  dcs  Peres,  ii.  § 7; 
hi.  § 8;  iv.  § 31-35;  vi.  §'31; 
tiii.  § 2-8. 

3 1 It  is  remarkable  how  rarely, 


if  ever  (I  cannot  call  to  mind  an 
instance),  in  the  discussions  of  the 
comparative  merits  of  marriage 
and  celibacy,  the  social  advantages 
appear  to  have  occurred  to  the 

mind It  is  always  argued 

with  relation  to  the  interests  and 
the  perfection  of  the  individual 
soul : and,  even  with  regard  to  that, 
the  writers  seem  almost  unconscious 
of  the  softening  and  humanising 
effect  of  the  natural  affections,  the 
beauty  of  parental  tenderness  and 
filial  love.’  — Milman's  Hist,  oj 
Christianity,  vol.  iii.  p.  196. 

J ‘ Tempus  brove  est,  et  jam 
securis  ad  radices  arborum  pohta 


322 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


consented  to  praise  marriage,  it  was  merely  because  il 
produced  virgins.'  Even  when  the  bond  had  been  formed, 
the  ascetic  passion  retained  its  sting.  We  have  already  seen 
how  it  embittered  other  relations  of  domestic  life.  Into  this, 
the  holiest  of  all,  it  infused  a tenfold  bitterness.  Whenever 
any  strong  religious  fervour  fell  upon  a husband  or  a wife,  its 
first  effect  was  to  make  a happy  union  impossible.  The  more 
religious  partner  immediately  desired  to  live  a life  of  solitary 
asceticism,  or  at  least,  if  no  ostensible  separation  took  place, 
an  unnatural  life  of  separation  in  marriage.  The  immense 
place  this  order  of  ideas  occupies  in  the  hortatory  writings  of 
the  Father's,  and  in  the  legends  of  the  saints,  must  be  familiar 
to  all  who  have  any  knowledge  of  this  department  of 
literature.  Thus — to  give  but  a very  few  examples — St. 
Nil  us,  when  he  had  already  two  children,  was  seized  with 
a longing  for  the  prevailing  asceticism,  and  his  wife  was 
persuaded,  after  many  tears,  to  consent  to  their  separation.2 
St.  Ammon,  on  the  night  of  his  marriage,  proceeded  to  greet 
his  bride  with  an  harangue  upon  the  evils  of  the  married 
state,  and  they  agreed,  in  consequence,  at  once  to  separate.3 
St.  Melania  laboured  long  and  earnestly  to  induce  her 
husband  to  allow  her  to  desert  his  bed,  before  ho  would 
consent.4  St.  Abraham  ran  away  from  his  wife  on  the  night 
of  his  marriage.5  St.  Alexis,  according  to  a somewhat  later 
legend,  took  the  same  step,  but  many  years  after  returned 
from  Jerusalem  to  his  father’s  house,  in  which  his  wife  was 
still  lamenting  her  desertion,  begged  and  received  a lodging 
as  an  act  of  charity,  and  lived  there  unrecognised  and 
unknown  till  his  death.6  St.  Gregory  of  ISTyssa — who  was 


est,  quae  silvam  legis  et  nuptiarum  xiii.  p.  147- 

evangelica  castitate  succidat.’ — Ep.  3 Socrates,  iv.  23. 

crxiii.  1 Palladius,  Hist.  Lans.  cxix, 

' ‘ Laudo  nuptias,  laudo  con-  5 Vit.  S.  Abr.  (Rosweyde),  cap.i. 

juginm,  sed  quia  mihi  virgines  8 I do  not  know  when  this  legend 

generant.’ — Ep.  xx ii.  first  appeared.  M.  Littrd  mentions 

- See  Ceillier,  Auteurs  cccles.  having  found  it  in  a french  MS.  of 


THE  POSITION  OF  WOMEN. 


323 


bo  unfortunate  as  to  be  married — wrote  a glowing  eulogy  of 
virginity,  in  the  course  of  which  he  mournfully  observed 
that  this  privileged  state  could  never  be  his.  Ke  resembled, 
he  assures  us,  an  ox  that  was  ploughing  a field,  the  fruit  of 
winch  he  must  never  enjoy ; or  a thirsty  man,  who  was 
gazing  on  a.  stream  of  which  he  never  can  drink;  ora  poor 
man,  whose  poverty  seems  the  more  hitter  as  he  contemplates 
the  wealth  of  his  neighbours ; and  he  proceeded  to  descant  in 
feeling  terms  upon  the  troubles  of  matrimony.1  Nominal 
marriages,  in  which  the  partners  agreed  to  shun  the  marriage 
bed,  became  not  uncommon.  The  emperor  Henry  II., 
Edward  the  Confessor,  of  England,  and  Alphonso  II.,  of 
Spain,  gave  examples  of  it.  A very  famous  and  rather 
picturesque  history  of  this  kind  is  related  by  Gregory  of 
Tours.  A rich  young  Gaul,  named  Injuriosus,  led  to  his 
home  a young  bride  to  whom  he  was  passionately  attached. 
That  night,  she  confessed  to  him,  with  tears,  that  she  had 
vowed  to  keep  her  virginity,  and  that  she  regretted  bitterly 
the  marriage  into  which  her  love  for  him  had  betrayed  her. 
He  told  her  that  they  should  remain  united,  but  that  she 
should  still  observe  her  vow;  and  he  fulfilled  his  promise. 
When,  after  several  years,  she  died,  her  husband,  in  laying 
her  in  the  tomb,  declared,  with  great  solemnity,  that  he 
restored  her  to  God  as  immaculate  as  he  had  received  her; 
and  then  a smile  lit  up  the  face  of  the  dead  woman,  and  she 
said,  4 Why  do  you  tell  that  which  no  one  asked  you  1 ' 
The  husband  soon  afterwards  died,  and  his  corpse,  winch  had 
been  laid  in  a distinct  compartment  from  that  of  his  wife  in 
the  tomb,  was  placed  side  by  side  with  it  by  the  angels.'2 


tie  eleventh  century  (Littre,  Les  subterranean  church  of  St.  Clement 
Uarbares,  pp.  123-121) ; and  it  also  at  Rome.  An  account  of  it  is  given 
forms  the  subject  of  a very  curious  by  Father  Mullooly,  in  his  imerest- 
fre.sco,  I imagine  of  a somewhat  ing  little  book  about  that  Church, 
earlier  date,  which  was  discovered,  1 Be  Virgin,  cap.  iii. 
within  the  last  few  years,  in  the  ' 2 Greg.  Tur.  42 


324 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


The  extreme  disorders  which  such  teaching  produced  in 
domestic  life,  and  also  the  extravagances  which  grew  up 
among  some  heretics,  naturally  alarmed  the  more  judicious 
leaders  of  the  Church,  and  it  was  ordained  that  married 
persons  should  not  enter  into  an  ascetic  life,  except  by 
mutual  consent.1  The  ascetic  ideal,  however,  remained 
unchanged.  To  abstain  from  marriage,  or  in  marriage  t& 
abstain  from  a perfect  union,  was  regarded  as  a proof  of 
sanctity,  and  marriage  was  viewed  in  its  coarsest  and  most 
degraded  form.  The  notion  of  its  impurity  took  many 
forms,  and  exercised  for  some  centuries  an  extremely  wide 
influence  over-  the  Church.  Thus,  it  was  the  custom  during 
the  middle  ages  to  abstain  from  the  marriage  bed  during  the 
night  after  the  ceremony,  in  honour  of  the  sacrament.2  It 
was  expressly  enjoined  that  no  married  persons  should  par- 
ticipate in  any  of  the  great  Church  festivals  if  the  night 
before  they  had  lain  together,  and  St.  Gregory  the  Great 
tells  of  a young  wife  who  was  possessed  by  a dsemon,  be- 
cause she  had  taken  part  in  a procession  of  St.  Sebastian, 
without  fulfilling  this  condition.3  The  extent  to  which  the 
feeling  on  the  subject  was  carried  is  shown  by  the  famous 
vision  of  Alberic  in  the  twelfth  century,  in  which  a special 
place  of  torture,  consisting  of  a lake  of  mingled  lead,  pitch, 
and  resin  is  represented  as  existing  in  hell  for  the  punish- 
ment of  married  people  who  had  lain  together  on  Church 
festivals  or  fast  days.4 

- Two  other  consequences  of  this  way  of  regarding  marriage 
were  a very  strong  disapproval  of  second  marriages,  and  a 
very  strong  desire  to  secure  celibacy  in  the  clergy.  The  first 
of  these  notions  had  existed,  though  in  a very  different  form, 
and  connected  with  very  different  motives,  among  the  early 
Romans,  who  were  accustomed,  we  are  told,  to  honour  with 

1 The  regula  ions  on  this  point  3 St.  Greg.  Dial.  i.  10. 

are  given  at  length  in  Bingham.  4 Delepierre,  L'Enfer  decrit  par 

2 Muratori,  Antich.  7taf.diss.xx.  ccu.x  qiii  Font  tm,  pp.  44-  50. 


THE  POSITION  OP  IT  OMEN. 


325 


the  crown  of  modesty  those  who  were  content  with  one  mar- 
riage, and  to  regard  many  marriages  as  a sign  of  illegitimate 
intemperance.1  This  opinion  appears  to  have  chiefly  grown 
out  of  a very  delicate  and  touching  feeling  which  had  taken 
di  ep  root  in  the  lioman  mind,  that  the  affection  a wife  owes 
her  husband  is  so  profound  and  so  pure  that  it  must  not 
cease  even  with  his  death ; that  it  should  guide  and  conse- 
crate all  her  subsequent  life,  and  that  it  never  can  be  trans- 
ferred to  another  object.  Virgil,  in  veiy  beautiful  lines, 
puts  this  sentiment  into  the  mouth  of  Dido  ; 2 and  several 
examples  are  recorded  of  Roman  wives,  sometimes  in  the 
prime  of  youth  and  beauty,  upon  the  death  of  their  husbands, 
devoting  the  remainder  of  their  lives  to  retirement  and  to  the 
memory  of  the  dead.3  Tacitus  held  up  the  Germans  as  in 
this  respect  a model  to  his  countrymen,4  and  the  epithet 
‘ univine  ’ inscribed  on  many  Roman  tombs  shows  how  this 
devotion  was  practised  and  valued.5  The  family  of  Camillas 
was  especially  honoured  for  the  absence  of  second  marriages 
among  its  members.6  ‘ To  love  a wife  when  living,’  said  one 
of  the  latest  Roman  poets,  ‘ is  a pleasure  ; to  love  her  when 
dead  is  an  act  of  religion.’7  In  the  case  of  men,  the  propriety 
of  abstaining  from  second  marriages  was  probably  not  felt  so 
strongly  as  in  the  case  of  women,  and  what  feeling  on  the 
subj<  ri  oersted  was  chiefly  due  to  another  motive  — affection 
for  the  cliildren,  whose  interests,  it  was  thought,  might  be 
injured  by  a stepmother.8 


1 Val.  Max.  ii.  1.  § 3. 

2 ‘ Ille  meos,  primus  qui  me  sibi 
junxit,  amores 

Abstulit;  ille  habeat  secum, 
servetque  sepulcliro.’ 

2En.  iv.  28. 

* E.g.,  the  wives  of  Lucan,  JJru- 
sns.,  and  Pompey. 

* Tacit.  German,  xix. 

1 Friedlander,  tome  i.  p.  111. 

“ Hieron.  Ep.  liv. 

53 


7 ‘ Uxorem  vivam  amare  vo- 
luptas ; 

Lefunctam  religio.’ 

Statius,  Sylv.  v.  in  procemio. 

8 By  one  of  the  laws  of  Cha- 
rondas  it  was  ordained  that  those 
who  cared  so  little  for  the  happi- 
ness of  their  children  as  to  place  a 
stepmother  over  them,  should  be 
excluded  from  the  councils  of  the 
State.  (Diod.  Sic.  xii.  12.) 


326 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


The  sentiment  which  thus  recoiled  from  second  marriages 
passed  with  a vastly  increased  strength  into  ascetic  Chris- 
tianity, but  it  was  based  upon  altogether  different  grounds. 
We  find,  in  the  first  place,  that  an  affectionate  remembrance 
of  the  husband  had  altogether  vanished  from  the  motives  of  the 
abstinence.  In  the  next  place,  we  may  remark  that  the  ecclesi- 
astical writers,  in  perfect  conformity  with  the  extreme  coarse- 
ness of  their  views  about  the  sexes,  almost  invariably  assumed 
that  the  motive  to  second  or  third  marriages  must  be  simply 
the  force  of  the  animal  passions.  The  Montanists  and  the 
Novatians  absolutely  condemned  second  marriages.1  The 
orthodox  pronounced  them  lawful,  on  account  of  the  weak- 
ness of  human  nature,  but  they  viewed  them  with  the  most 
emphatic  disapproval,2  partly  because  they  considered  them 
manifest  signs  of  incontinence,  and  partly  because  they  re- 
garded them  as  inconsistent  with  their  doctrine  that  mar- 
riage is  an  emblem  of  the  union  of  Christ  with  the  Church. 
The  language  of  the  Fathers  on  this  subject  appears  to  a 
modern  mind  most  extraordinary,  and,  but  for  their  distinct 
and  reiterated  assertion  that  they  considered  these  marriages 
permissible,3  would  appear  to  amount  to  a peremptory  con- 
demnation. Thus— to  give  but  a few  samples — digamy,  or 
second  marriage,  is  described  b}^  Athenagoras  as  1 a decent 
adultery.’4  ‘ Fornication,’  according  to  Clement  of  A'vxan- 
dria,  ‘ is  a lapse  from  one  marriage  into  many.’5  ‘ The  first 
Adam,’  said  St.  Jerome,.  ‘ had  one  wife ; the  second  Adam 

1 Tertullian  expounded  the  their  strongest  opponents,  says  : 

Montanist  view  in  his  treatise.  ‘Q,uid  igitur?  damnamus  secunda 
De  Monogamia.  matrimonia?  Minime,  sed  primu 

2 A full  collection  of  the  e'ate  laudamus.  Abjicimus  de  ecclesia 

monts  of  the  Fathers  on  this  sub-  digamos?  absit;  sed  monogamos 
ject  is  given  by  Perrone,  De  Matri-  ad  continentiam  provocamus.  In 
monio,  lib.  iii.  Sect.  I. ; and  by  area  Noe  non  solum  tnnnda  sed  et 
Natalis  Alexander,  Hist.  Eccles.  immunda  fnerunt  ammalia.' — Ep. 
9*c.  II.  dissert.  18.  cxxiii. 

* Thus,  to  give  but  a single  in-  1 In  Leaift. 

stance,  St.  Jerome,  who  was  one  of  1 S from.  lib.  iii. 


TIIE  POSITION  OP  WOMEN. 


327 


had  no  wife.  They  who  approve  of  digamy  hold  forth  a 
third  Adam,  who  was  twice  married,  whom  they  follow.’1 
‘ Consider,’  he  again  says,  ‘ that  she  who  has  been  twico 
married,  though  she  he  an  old,  and  decrepit,  and  pool 
woman,  is  not  deemed  worthy  to  receive  the  chanty  of  the 
Church.  But  if  the  bread  of  charity  is  taken  from  her,  how 
much  more  that  bread  which  descends  from  heaven ! ’ 2 
‘ Digamists,’  according  to  Origen,  ‘ are  saved  in  the  name  of 
Christ,  but  are  by  no  means  crowned  by  him.’3  ‘ By  this 
text,’  said  St.  Gregory  Nazianzen,  speaking  of  St.  Paul’s 
comparison  of  marriage  to  the  union  of  Christ  with  the 
Church,  ‘ second  marriages  seem  to  me  to  be  reproved.  If 
there  are  two  Christs  there  may  be  two  husbands  or  two 
wives.  If  there  is  but  one  Christ,  one  Head  of  the  Church, 
there  is  but  one  flesh — a second  is  repelled.  But  if  he  for- 
bids a second,  what  is  to  be  said  of  third  marriages  1 The 
•first  is  law,  the  second  is  pardon  and  indulgence,  the  third  is 
iniquity  ; but  he  who  exceeds  this  number  is  manifestly 
bestial.’4  The  collective  judgment  of  the  ecclesiastical 
authorities  on  this  subject  is  shown  by  the  rigid  exclusion 
of  digamists  from  the  priesthood,  and  from  all  claim  to  the 
charity  of  the  Church,  and  by  the  decrees  of  more  than  one 
Council,  which  imposed  a period  of  penance  upon  all  who 
married  a second  time,  before  they  were  admitted  to  commu- 
nion.5 One  of  the  canons  of  the  Council  of  Illiberis,  in  the 
beginning  of  the  fourth  century,  while  in  general  condemning 
baptism  by  laymen,  permitted  it  in  case  of  extreme  necessity ; 
but  provided  that  even  then  it  was  indispensable  that  the 
officiating  layman  should  not  have  been  twice  married.6 

1 Contra  Jovin.  i.  said  not  to  imply  that  the  second 

2 Ibid.  See,  too,  Ep.  cxxiii.  marriage  was  a sin,  but  that  the 

3 Horn.  xvii.  in  Luc.  moral  condition  that  made  it  ne- 

* Orat.  xxxi.  cessary  was  a bad  one. 

5 Perrone,  De  Matr.  iii.  § 1,  art.  6 Cone.  Illib.  can.  xxxviii. 

1 ; Natalis  Alexander,  Hist.  Ecclcs.  Bingham  thinks  the  feeling  of  the 
It.  dissert.  18.  The  penances  are  Council  to  have  been,  that  if  hap- 


328 


HISTORY.  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


A_mong  the  Greeks  fourth  marriages  were  at  one  time 
deemed  absolutely  unlawful,  and  much  controversy  was 
excited  by  the  Emperor  Leo  the  Wise,  who,  having  had 
three  wives,  had  taken  a mistress,  but  afterwards,  in  defiance 
of  the  religious  feelings  of  his  people,  determined  to  raise  her 
to  the  position  of  a wife.1 

The  subject  of  the  celibacy  of  the  clergy,  in  which  the 
ecclesiastical  feelings  about  marriage  were  also  shown,  is  an 
extremely  large  one,  and  I shall  not  attempt  to  deal  with  it, 
except  in  a most  cursory  manner.2  There  are  two  facts  con- 
nected with  it  which  every  candid  student  must  admit.  The 
first  is,  that  in  the  earliest  peiiod  of  the  Church,  the  privi- 
lege of  marriage  was  accorded  to  the  clergy.  The  second  is, 
that  a notion  of  the  impurity  of  maniage  existed,  and  that  it 
was  felt  that  the  clergy,  as  pre-eminently  the  holy  class, 
should  have  less  licence  than  laymen.  The  first  form  this 
feeling  took  appears  in  the  strong  conviction  that  a second 
marriage  of  a priest,  or  the  marriage  of  a priest  with  a 
widow,  was  unlawful  and  criminal.3  This  belief  seems  to 


tism  was  not  administered  by  a 
priest,  it  should  at  all  events  be 
administered  by  one  who  might 
have  been  a priest. 

1 Perrone,  Dc  Matrimonio,  tome 
iii.  p.  102. 

2 This  subject  has  recently  been 
treated  witli  very  great  learning 
and  with  admirable  impartiality 
by  an  American  author,  Mr.  Henry 
C.  Lea,  in  his  Histoi-y  of  Sacerdotal 
Celibacy  (Philadelphia,  1867), which 
is  certainly  one. of  the  most  valu- 
able works  that  America  has  pro- 
duced. Since  the  great  history  of 
Dean  Milman,  I know  no  work  in 
English  which  has  thrown  more 
light  on  the  moral  condition  of  the 
middle  ages,  and  none  which  is 
more  fitted  to  dispel  the  gross  illu- 
moujs  concerning  that  period  which 


High  Church  writers,  and  writers 
of  the  positive  school,  have  con- 
spired to  sustain. 

3  See  Lea,  p.  36.  The  command 
of  St.  Paul,  that  a bishop  or  deacon 
should  be  the  husband  of  one  wife 
(1  Tim.  iii.  2-12)  was  believed  by 
all  ancient  and  by  many  modern 
commentators  to  be  prohibitory  of 
second  marriages;  and  this  view  is 
somewhat  confirmed  by  the  widows 
who  were  to  be  honoured  and  sup- 
ported by  the  Church,  being  only 
those  who  had  been  but  once  mar- 
ried (1  Tim.  v.  9).  See  Pressense, 
Hist,  dcs  trois  premiers  Siecles  (lr* 
serie),  tome  ii.  p.  233.  Among  the 
Jews  it  was  ordained  that  the  high 
priest  should  not  marry  a widow. 
(Lovit.  xxi.  13-  14.) 


THE  POSITION"  OF  WOMEN". 


329 


have  existed  from  the  earliest  period  of  the  Church,  and  was 
retained  with  great  tenacity  and  unanimity  through  many 
centuries.  In  the  next  place,  we  find  from  an  extremely 
early  date  an  opinion,  that  it  was  an  act  of  virtue,  at  a la  to 
period  that  it  was  an  act  of  duty,  for  priests  after  ordination 
to  abstain  from  cohabiting  with  their  wives.  The  Council 
of  Nice  refrained,  by  the  advice  of  Paphnutius,  who  was 
himself  a scrupulous  celibate,  from  imposing  this  last  rule  as 
a matter  of  necessity  ; 1 but  in  the  course  of  the  fourth  century 
it  was  a recognised  principle  that  clerical  marriages  were 
criminal.  They  were  celebrated,  however,  habitually,  and 
usually  with  the  greatest  openness.  The  various  attitudes 
assumed  by  the  ecclesiastical  authorities  in  dealing  with  this 
subject  form  an  extremely  curious  page  of  the  history  of 
morals,  and  supply  the  most  crushing  evidence  of  the  evils 
which  have  been  produced  by  the  system  of  celibacy.  I can 
at  present,  however,  only  refer  to  the  vast  mass  of  evidence 
which  has  been  collected  on  the  subject,  derived  from  the 
writings  of  Catholic  divines  and  from  the  decrees  of  Catholic 
Councils  during  the  space  of  many  centuries.  It  is  a popular 
illusion,  which  is  especially  common  among  writers  who  have 
little  direct  knowledge  of  the  middle  ages,  that  the  atrocious 
immorality  of  monasteries,  in  the  century  before  the  Refor- 
mation, was  a new  fact,  and  that  the  ages  when  the  fnith  of 
men  was  undisturbed,  were  ages  of  great  moral  purity.  In 
fact,  it  appears,  from  the  uniform  testimony  of  the  ecclesias- 
tical writers,  that  ecclesiastical  immorality  in  the  eighth 
and  three  following  centuries  was  little  if  at  all  less  out- 
rageous than  in  any  other  period,  while  the  Papacy,  during 
almost  the  whole  of  the  tenth  century,  was  held  lay  men  of 


1 Socrates,  II.  E.  i.  11.  The  varied  greatly.  A brilliant  sum- 
Council  of  Iliiberis  (can.  xxxiii.)  rr.ary  of  the  chief  facts  is  given  in 
had  ordained  this,  but  both  the  Milman’s  History  of  Early  Cluis- 
precepts  and  the  practice  of  divines  tianity,  vol.  iii.  pp.  277-282. 


330  HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 

infamous  lives.  Simony  was  nearly  universal.1  Barbarian 
chieftains  married  at  an  early  age,  and  totally  incapable  of 
restraint,  occupied  the  leading  positions  in  the  Church,  and 
gross  irregularities  speedily  became  general.  An  Italian 
bishop  of  the  tenth  century  epigram matically  described  the 
morals  of  his  time,  when  he  declared,  that  if  he  were  to 
enforce  the  canons  against  unchaste  people  administering 
ecclesiastical  rites,  no  one  would  be  left  in  the  Church  except 
the  boys ; and  if  he  were  to  observe  the  canons  against  bas- 
tards, these  also  must  be  excluded.2  The  evil  acquired  such 
magnitude  that  a great  feudal  clergy,  bequeathing  the  eccle- 
siastical benefices  from  father  to  son,  appeared  more  than 
once  likely  to  arise.3  A tax  called  ‘ Culagium,’  which  was  in 
fact  a licence  to  clergymen  to  keep  concubines,  was  during 
several  centuries  systematically  levied  by  princes.4  Some- 
times the  evil,  by  its  very  extension,  corrected  itself.  Priestly 
marriages  were  looked  upon  as  normal  events  not  implying 
any  guilt,  and  in  the  eleventh  century  several  instances  are 
recorded  in  which  they  were  not  regarded  as  any  impedi- 
ment to  the  power  of  working  miracles.5  But  this  was  a 
rare  exception.  From  the  earliest  period  a long  succession 
of  Councils  as  well  as  such  men  as  St.  Boniface,  St.  Gregory 
the  Great,  St.  Peter  Damiani,  St.  Ihmstan,  St.  Anselm, 
Hildebrand  and  his  successors  in  the  Popedom,  denounced 
priestly  marriage  or  concubinage  as  an  atrocious  crime,  and 
the  habitual  life  of  the  priests  was,  in  theory  at  least,  gene- 
rally recognised  as  a life  of  sin. 

It  is  not  surprising  that,  having  once  broken  their  vows 
and  begun  to  live  what  they  deemed  a life  of  habitual  sin, 


1 See,  on  the  state  of  things  in 
the  tenth  and  eleventh  centuries, 
Lea,  pp.  162-192. 

2 Itatherius,  quoted  by  Lea,  p. 

151. 

* See  some  curious  evidence  of 


the  extent  to  which  the  practice  ot 
the  hereditary  transmission  of  eccle- 
siastical offices  was  carried,  in  Lea, 
pp.  149,  150,  266,  299,  339. 

•'Lea,  pp.  271,  292,  422. 

6 Ibid.  pp.  186-187. 


THE  POSITION  OE  WOMEN. 


331 


the  clergy  should  soon  have  sunk  far  below  the  level  of  the 
laity.  We  may  not  lay  much  stress  on  such  isolated  instances 
of  depravity  as  that  of  Pope  John  XXTII.,  who  was  con- 
demned among  many  other  crimes  for  incest,  and  for  adultery ;! 
or  the  abbot-elect  of  St.  Augustine,  at  Canterbury,  who 
in  1171  was  found,  on  investigation,  to  have  seventeen 
illegitimate  children  in  a single  village  ;  1  2 or  an  abbot  of  St. 
Pelayo,  in  Spain,  who  in  1 1 30  was  proved  to  have  kept  no 
less  than  seventy  concubines ; 3 or  Henry  III.,  Bishop  of 
Liege,  who  was  deposed  in  1274  for  having  sixty-five 
illegitimate  children ; 4 but  it  is  impossible  to  resist  the 
evidence  of  a long  chain  of  Councils  and  ecclesiastical  writers, 
who  conspire  in  depicting  far  greater  evils  than  simple  concu- 
binage. It  was  observed  that  when  the  priests  actually  took 
wives  the  knowledge  that  these  connections  were  illegal  was 
peculiarly  fatal  to  their  fidelity,  and  bigamy  and  extreme 
mobility  of  attachments  were  especially  common  among 
them.  The  writers  of  the  middle  ages  are  full  of  accounts  of 
nunneries  that  were  like  brothels,  of  the  vast  multitude  of 
infanticides  within  their  walls,  and  of  that  inveterate 
prevalence  of  incest  among  the  clergy,  which  rendered  it 
necessary  again  and  again  to  issue  the  most  stringent  enact- 
ments that  priests  should  not  be  permitted  to  live  with  their 
mothers  or  sisters.  Unnatural  love,  which  it  had  been  one 
of  the  great  services  of  Christianity  almost  to  eradicate  from 
the  world,  is  more  than  once  spoken  of  as  lingering  in  the 
monasteries ; and,  shortly  before  the  Beformation,  complaints 
became  loud  and  frequent  of  the  employment  of  the  con- 
fessional for  the  purposes  of  debauchery.5  The  measures 
taken  on  the  subject  were  very  numerous  and  severe.  At 
first,  the  evil  chiefly  complained  of  was  the  clandestine 

1 Lea,  p.  358.  5 The  reader  may  find  the  most 

2 Ibid.  p.  296.  ample  evidence  of  these  positions 

* Ibid.  p.  322.  in  Lea.  See  especially  pp.  138, 

4 Ibid.  p.  319.  Ill,  153,  155,  260,  341. 


332 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN"  MORALS. 


marriage  of  priests,  and  especially  their  intercourse  with 
wives  whom  they  had  married  previous  to  their  ordination. 
Several  Councils  issued  their  anathemas  against  priests  ‘who 
had  improper  relations  with  their  wives ; ’ and  rules  were 
made  that  priests  should  always  sleep  in  tire  presence  of  a 
subordinate  clerk;  and  that  they  should  only  meet  their 
wives  in  the  open  air  and  before  at  least  two  witnesses.  Men 
w ire,  however,  by  no  means  unanimous  in  their  way  of 
regarding  this  matter.  Synesius,  when  elected  to  a bishopric, 
at  first  declined,  boldly  alleging  as  one  of  his  reasons,  that 
he  had  a wife  whom  he  loved  dearly,  and  who,  he  hoped, 
would  bear  him  many  sons,  and  that  he  did  not  mean  to 
separate  from  her  or  visit  her  secretly  as  an  adulterer.1  A 
Bishop  of  Laon,  at  a later  date,  who  was  married  to  a niece 
of  St.  lib  in  y,  and  who  remained  with  his  wife  till  after  he 
had  a son  and  a daughter,  quaintly  expressed  his  penitence 
by  naming  them  respectively  Latro  and  Vulpecula.2  St. 
Gregory  the  Great  describes  the  virtue  of  a priest,  who, 
through  motives  of  piety,  had  discarded  his  wife.  As  he  lay 
dying,  she  hastened  to  him  to  watch  the  bed  which  for  forty 
years  she  had  not  been  allowed  to  share,  and,  bending  over 
what  seemed  the  inanimate  form  of  her  husband,  she  tried  to 
ascertain  whether  any  breath  still  remained,  when  the  dying 
saint,  collecting  his  last  energies,  exclaimed,  ‘Woman,  be- 
gone; take  away  the  straw;  thei’e  is  fire  yet.’3  The 
destruction  of  priestly  marriage  is  chiefly  due  to  Hildebrand, 
who  pursued  this  object  with  the  most  untiring  resolution. 
Finding  that  his  appeals  to  the  ecclesiastical  authorities  and 
to  the  civil  rulers  were  insufficient,  he  boldly  turned  to  the 
people,  exhorted  them,  in  defiance  of  all  Church  traditions, 
to  withdraw  their  obedience  from  married  priests,  and 


1 Synesius,  Ep.  cv.  had  made  him  a principal  inter 

2 Lea,  p.  122.  St.  Augustine  locutor  in  one  of  his  religious  dia 
bad  named  his  illegitimate  son  logues. 

Adeodatus,  or  the  Gift  of  God,  and  3 Dialog,  iv.  i 1. 


THE  POSITION  OF  WOMEN. 


333 


kindled  among  them  a fierce  fanaticism  of  asceticism,  which 
speedily  produced  a fierce  persecution  of  the  offending  pastors. 
Their  wives,  in  immense  numbers,  were  driven  forth  with 
hatred  and  with  scorn;  and  many  crimes,  and  much  in- 
tolerable suffering,  followed  the  disruption.  The  priests 
sometimes  strenuously  resisted.  At  Cambrai,  in  a.d.  1077, 
they  burnt  alive  as  a heretic  a zealot  who  was  maintaining 
the  doctrines  of  Hildebrand.  In  England,  half  a century 
later,  they  succeeded  in  surprising  a Papal  legate  in  the  arms 
of  a courtesan,  a few  hours  after  he  had  delivered  a fierce 
denunciation  of  clerical  unchastity.1  But  Papal  resolution 
supported  by  popular  fanaticism  won  the  victory.  Pope 
Urban  II.  gave  licence  to  the  nobles  to  reduce  to  slavery 
the  wives  whom  priests  had  obstinately  refused  to  abandon, 
and  after  a few  more  acts  of  severity  priestly  marriage  be- 
came obsolete.  The  extent,  however,  of  the  disorders  that 
still  existed,  is  shown  by  the  mournful  confessions  of 
ecclesiastical  writers,  by  the  uniform  and  indignant  testi- 
mony of  the  poets  and  prose  satirists  who  preceded  the 
.Reformation,  by  the  atrocious  immoralities  disclosed  in  the 
monasteries  at  the  time  of  their  suppression,  and  by  the 
significant  prudence  of  many  lay  Catholics,  who  were  ac- 
customed to  insist  that  their  priest  should  take  a concubine 
for  the  protection  of  the  families  of  his  parishioners.2 


1 This  is  mentioned  by  Henry 
of  Huntingdon,  who  was  a contem- 
porary. (Lea,  p.  293.) 

2 The  first  notice  of  this  very 
remarkable  precaution  is  in  a canon 
of  the  Council  of  Palencia  (in 
Spain)  held  in  1322,  which  anathe- 
matises laymen  who  compel  their 
pastors  to  take  concubines.  (Lea, 
p.  324.)  Sleidan  mentions  that  it 
was  customary  in  some  of  the  Swiss 
cantons  for  the  parishioners  to 
oblige  the  priest  to  select  a concu- 
bine as  a necessary  precaution  tor 


the  protection  of  his  female  parish- 
ioners. (Ibid.  p.  355.)  Sarpi,  in 
his  Hist,  of  the  Council  of  Trent, 
mentions  (on  the  authority  of 
Zninglius)  this  Swiss  custom, 
bicolas  of  Clemangis,  a leading 
member  of  the  Council  of  Con- 
stance, declared  that  this  custom 
had  become  very  common,  that 
the  laity  were  firmly  persuaded 
that  priests  never  lived  a life  of 
real  celibacy,  and  that,  where 
no  proofs  of  concubinage  were 
found,  they  always  assumed  the 


331 


HISTORY  OP  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


It  is  scarcely  possible  to  conceive  a more  demoralising 
influence  than  a priesthood  living  such  a life  as  I have  do 
scribed.  In  Protestant  countries,  where  the  marriage  of  the 
clergy  is  fully  recognised,  it  has,  indeed,  been  productive  of 
the  greatest  and  the  most  unequivocal  benefits.  Nowheie, 
it  may  be  confidently  asserted,  does  Christianity  assume  a more 
beneficial  or  a more  winning  form  than  in  those  gentle  clerical 
households  which  stud  our  land,  constituting,  as  Coleridge  said, 
‘the  one  idyll  of  modern  life,’  the  most  perfect  type  of  domestic 
peace,  the  centre  of  civilisation  in  the  remotest  village.  Not- 
withstanding some  class  narrowness  and  professional  bigotry, 
notwithstanding  some  unworthy,  but  half  unconscious 
mannerism,  which  is  often  most  unjustly  stigmatised  as 
hypocrisy,  it  would  be  difficult  to  find  in  any  other  quarter 
so  much  happiness  at  once  diffused  and  enjoyed,  or  so  much 
virtue  attained  with  so  little  tension  or  struggle.  Com- 
bining with  his  sacred  calling  a warm  sympathy  with  the 
intellectual,  social,  and  political  movements  of  his  time, 
possessing  the  enlarged  practical  knowledge  of  a father  of  a 
family,  and  entering  with  a keen  zest  into  the  occupations 
and  the  amusements  of  his  parishioners,  a good  clergyman  will 
rarely  obtrude  his  religious  convictions  into  secular  spheres, 
but  yet  will  make  them  apparent  in  all.  They  will  be  re- 
vealed by  a higher  and  deeper  moral  tone,  by  a more 
scrupulous  purity  in  word  and  action,  by  an  all-pervasive 
gentleness,  which  refines,  and  softens,  and  mellows,  and  adds 
as  much  to  the  charm  as  to  the  excellence  of  the  character 


existence  of  more  serious  vice. 
The  passage  (which  is  quoted 
by  Bayle)  is  too  remarkable  to 
be  omitted.  ‘ Taceo  de  fornica- 
tionibus  et  adulteriis  a quibus  qui 
nlieni  sunt  probro  cseteris  ac  ludi- 
brio  esse  solent,  spadonesque  aut 
sodomitae  appellantur ; denique 
laici  usque  adeo  persuasum  habeut 


nullos  caelibes  esse,  ut  in  plerisque 
parochiis  non  aliter  velmt  presby- 
terum  tolcrare  nisi  coneubinarn 
habeat,  quo  vel  sic  suis  sit  consul- 
turn.  uxoribus,  quse  nec  sic  quidera 
usquequaque  sunt  extra  periculum.' 
Nic.  de  Clem.  Be  I'rcesul.  Sbnouiaa 
(Lea,  p.  386.) 


THE  POSITION  OP  WOMEN. 


335 


in  which  it  is  displayed.  In  visiting  the  sick,  relieving  the 
poor,  instructing  the  young,  and  discharging  a thousand 
delicate  offices  for  which  a woman’s  tact  is  especially  needed, 
his  wife  finds  a sphere  of  labour  which  is  at  once  intensely 
active  and  intensely  feminine,  and  her  example  is  not  less 
beneficial  than  her  ministrations. 

Among  the  Catholic  priesthood,  on  the  other  hand, 
where  the  vow  of  celibacy  is  faithfully  observed,  a character 
of  a different  type  is  formed,  which  with  very  grave  and 
deadly  faults  combines  some  of  the  noblest  excellences  to 
which  humanity  can  attain.  Separated  from  most  of  the  ties 
and  affections  of  earth,  viewing  life  chiefly  through  the 
distorted  medium  of  the  casuist  or  the  confessional,  and 
deprived  of  those  relationships  which  more  than  any  others 
soften  and  expand  the  character,  the  Catholic  priests  have 
been  but  too  often  conspicuous  for  their  fierce  and  sanguinary 
fanaticism,  and  for  their  indifference  to  all  interests  except 
those  of  their-  Church ; while  the  narrow  range  of  their 
sympathies,  and  the  intellectual  servitude  they  have  accepted, 
render  them  peculiarly  unfitted  for  the  office  of  educating  the 
young,  which  they  so  persistently  claim,  and  which,  to  the 
great  misfortune  of  the  world,  they  were  long  permitted  to 
monopolise.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  no  other  body  of  men 
have  ever  exhibited  a more  single-minded  and  unworldly 
zeal,  refracted  by  no  personal  interests,  sacrificing  to  duty 
the  dearest  of  earthly  objects,  and  confronting  with  un- 
daunted heroism  every  form  of  hardship,  of  suffering,  and 
of  death. 

That  the  middle  ages,  even  in  their  darkest  periods,  pro- 
duced many  good  and  great  men  of  the  latter  type  it  would 
be  unjust  and  absurd  to  deny.  It  can  hardly,  however,  be 
questioned  that  the  extreme  frequency  of  illicit  connections 
Rmong  the  clergy  tended  during  many  centuries  most  actively 
to  lower  the  moral  tone  of  the.  laity,  and  to  counteract  the 
great  services  in  the  cause  of  purity  which  Christian  teach- 


33G 


HISTORY  OR  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


ing  had  undoubtedly  effected.  The  priestly  connections  were 
rarely  so  fully  recognised  as  to  enable  the  mistress  to  fill  a 
|>osition  like  that  which  is  now  occupied  by  the  wife  of  a 
clergyman,  and  the  spectacle  of  the  chief  teachers  and 
exemplars  of  morals  living  habitually  in  an  intercourse 
which  was  acknowledged  to  be  ambiguous  or  wrong,  must 
have  acted  most  injuriously  upon  every  class  of  the  com- 
munity. Asceticism,  proclaiming  war  upon  human  nature, 
produced  a revulsion  towards  its  extreme  opposite,  and  even 
when  it  was  observed  it  was  frequently  detrimental  to 
purity  of  mind.  The  habit  of  continually  looking  upon  mar- 
riage in  its  coarsest  light,  and  of  regarding  the  propagation 
of  the  species  as  its  one  legitimate  end,  exercised  a pecu- 
liarly perverting  influence  upon  the  imagination.  The  ex- 
uberant piety  of  wives  who  desired  to  live  apart  from  their 
husbands  often  drove  the  latter  into  serious  irregularities.1 
The  notion  of  sin  was  introduced  into  the  dearest  of  re- 
lationships,2 and  the  whole  subject  was  distorted  and  de- 
graded. It  is  one  of  the  great  benefits  of  Protestantism 
that  it  did  much  to  banish  these  modes  of  thought  and 
feeling  from  the  world,  and  to  restore  marriage  to  its  sim- 
plicity and  its  dignity.  We  have  a gratifying  illustration 


1 This  was  energetically  noticed 
by  Luther,  in  his  famous  sermon 
‘ De  Matrimonio,’  and  some  of  the 
Catholic  preachers  of  an  earlier 
period  had  made  the  same  com- 
plaint. See  a curious  passage 
from  a contemporary  of  Boccaccio, 
quoted  by  Meray,  Lcs  Libres  pru- 
cheurs , p.  1 55.  ‘ Vast  numbers  of 

laymen  separated  from  their  wives 
under  the  influence  of  the  ascetic 
ejthusiasm  which  Hildebrand  cre- 
sted.’— Lea,  p.  254. 

* ‘ Quando  enim  servata  fide 
thori  causa  prolis  eonjugcs  con- 
veniunt  sic  excusatur  coitus  ut 


culpam  non  habeat.  Quando  vero 
deficients  bono  prolis  fide  tamen 
servata  conveniunt  causa  inconti- 
nentise  non  sic  excusatur  ut  non 
habeat  culpam,  sed  veuialem.  . . . 
Item  hoc  quod  conjugati  victi  con 
cupiscentia  utuntur  invicem,  ultra 
necessitatem  liberos  procreancli, 
ponam  in  his  pro  quibus  quotidie 
dicintus  Dimitte  nobis  debita  nos- 
tra. . . . Unde  in  sententinlis 
Sexti  Pythagorici  legitur  “omnig 
ardentior  amator  propri®  uxoris 
adulter  est.”  ’ — Peter  Lombard, 
Scntent.  lib.  iv.  dist.  31. 


THE  POSITION"  OF  WOMEN". 


337 


of  the  extent  to  which  an  old  superstition  has  declined,  in 
the  fact  that  when  Goldsmith,  in  his  great,  romance,  desired 
to  depict  the  harmless  eccentricities  of  his  simple-minded  and 
unworldly  vicar,  he  represented  him  as  maintaining  that 
opinion  concerning  the  sinfulness  of  the  second  marriage  of  a 
clergyman  which  was  for  many  centuries  universal  in  the 
Church. 

Another  injurious  consequence,  resulting,  in  a great 
measure,  from  asceticism,  was  a tendency  to  depreciate 
extremely  the  character  and  the  position  of  women.  In 
this  tendency  we  may  detect  in  part  the  influence  of  the 
earlier  Jewish  writings,  in  which  an  impartial  observer 
may  find  evident  traces  of  the  common  Oriental  depreci- 
ation of  women.  The  custom  of  purchase-money  to  the 
father  of  the  bride  was  admitted.  Polygamy  was  au- 
thorised,1 and  practised  by  the  wisest  man  on  an  enormous 
scale.  A woman  was  regarded  as  the  origin  of  human  ills. 
A period  of  purification  was  appointed  after  the  birth  of 
every  child ; but.  by  a very  significant  provision,  it  was 
twice  as  long  in  the  case  of  a female  as  of  a male  child.2 
‘ The  badness  of  men,’  a Jewish  writer  emphatically  declared, 
‘is  better  than  the  goodness  of  women.’3  The  types  of 
female  excellence  exhibited  in  the  early  period  of  Jewish 
history  are  in  general  of  a low  order,  and  certainly  far 
inferior  to  those  of  Homan  history  or  Greek  poetry ; and  the 
warmest  eulogy  of  a woman  in  the  Old  Testament  is 
probably  that  which  was  bestowed  upon  her  who,  with  cir- 
cumstances of  the  most  aggravated  treachery,  had  murdered 
the  sleeping  fugitive  who  had  taken  refuge  under  her  roof. 

1 Many  wives,  however,  wero  2 Levit.  xii.  1-5. 
forbidden.  (Deut.  xvii.  17.)  3 Ecclesiasticus,  xlii.  14.  I 

Polygamy  is  said  to  have  ceased  believe,  however,  the  passage  has 
among  the  Jews  after  the  return  been  translated  ‘ Better  the  bad- 
from  the  Babylonish  captivity.—  ness  of  a man  than  the  blandish- 

Whewell’s  Elements  of  Morality,  ments  of  a woman.’ 
book  iv.  ch.  v. 


338 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


The  combined  influence  of  the  Jewish  writings,  and  of 
that  ascetic  feeling  which  treated  women  as  the  chief  source 
of  temptation  to  man,  was  shown  in  those  fierce  invectives, 
which  form  so  conspicuous  and  so  grotesque  a portion  of  the 
writings  of  the  Fathers,  and  which  contrast  so  curiously  with 
the  adulation  bestowed  upon  particular  members  of  the  sex. 
Woman  was  represented  as  the  door  of  hell,  as  the  mother  of 
all  human  ills.  She  should  be  ashamed  at  the  very  thought 
that  she  is  a woman.  She  should  live  in  continual  penance, 
on  account  of  the  curses  she  has  brought  upon  the  world. 
She  should  be  ashamed  of  her  dress,  for  it  is  the  memorial 
of  her  fall.  She  should  be  especially  ashamed  of  her  beauty, 
for  it  is  the  most  potent  instrument  of  the  daemon.  Physical 
beauty  was  indeed  perpetually  the  theme  of  ecclesiastical 
denunciations,  though  one  singular  exception  seems  to  have 
been  made ; for  it  has  been  observed  that  in  the  middle  ages 
the  personal  beauty  of  bishops  was  continually  noticed  upon 
their  tombs.1  Women  were  even  forbidden  by  a provincial 
Council,  in  the  sixth  century,  on  account  of  their  impurity, 
to  receive  the  Eucharist  into  their  naked  hands.2  Their 
essentially  subordinate  position  was  continually  maintained. 

It  is  probable  that  this  teaching  had  its  part  in  deter- 
mining tbe  principles  of  legislation  concerning  the  sex.  The 
Pagan  laws  during  the  Empire  had  been  continually  repealing 
the  old  disabilities  of  women,  and  the  legislative  movement 
in  their  favour  continued  with  unabated  force  from  Constan- 
tine to  Justinian,  and  appeared  also  in  some  of  the  early 
laws  of  the  barbarians.3  But  in  the  whole  feudal  legislation 


1 This  curious  fact  is  noticed  Troplong,  Influences  du  Christian - 

Ly  ].e  Blant,  Inscriptions  chre-  isme  sur  le  Droit  (a  work,  however, 
K mines  da  la  Gaule,  pp.  xevii.-  which  is  written  much  more  in 
sevdii.  tbe  spirit  of  an  apologist  than  in 

2 See  the  decree  of  a Council  of  that  of  an  historian),  and  Lcgouve, 

A uxerre  (a.d.  o78),  can.  36.  pp.  27-29. 

See  the  last  two  chapters  of 


THE  POSITION  OE  WOMEN. 


339 


women  were  placed  in  a much  lower  legal  position  than  in 
the  Pagan  Empire. 1 In  addition  to  the  personal  restrictions 
which  grew  necessarily  out  of  the  Catholic  doctrines  concerning 
divorce,  and  concerning  the  subordination  of  the  weaker  sex, 
we  find  numerous  and  stringent  enactments,  which  rendered  it 
impossible  for  women  to  succeed  to  any  considerable  amount 
of  property,  and  which  almost  reduced  them  to  the  alter- 
native of  marriage  or  a nunnery.2  The  complete  inferiority 
of  the  sex  was  continually  maintained  by  the  law  ; and  that 
generous  public  opinion  which  hi  Pome  had  frequently 
revolted  against  the  injustice  done  to  girls,  in  depriving 
them  of  the  greater  part  of  the  inheritance  of  then  fathers, 
totally  disappeared.  Wherever  the  canon  law  has  been  the 
basis  of  legislation,  we  find  laws  of  succession  sacrificing  the 
interests  of  daughters  and  of  wives,3  and  a state  of  public 
opinion  which  has  been  formed  and  regulated  by  these  laws ; 
nor  was  any  serious  attempt  made  to  abolish  them  till  the 


1 Even  in  matters  not  relating 
to  property,  the  position  of  women 
in  feudalism  was  a low  one.  ‘ Tout 
mari,’  says  Beaumanoir,  ‘peut 
battresa  femme  quand  elle  ne  veut 
pas  obeir  a son  commandement,  ou 
quand  elle  le  maudit,  ou  quand 
elle  le  dement,  pourvu  que  ce  soit 
moderement  et  sans  que  mort 
s’ensuive,’  quoted  by  Legouve,  p. 
148.  Contrast  with  this  the  say- 
ing of  the  elder  Cato : ‘ A man 
who  beats  his  wife  or  his  children 
lays  impious  hands  on  that  which 
is  most  holy  and  most  sacred  in 
the  world.’  — Plutarch,  Marcus 
Cato. 

2 See  Legouve,  pp.  29-38 ; 
Maine’s  Ancient  Law,  pp.  154-159. 

s ‘No  society  which  preserves 
any  tincture  of  Christian  institu- 
tions is  likely  to  restore  to  married 
women  the  personal  liberty  con- 


ferred on  them  by  the  middle 
Koman  law : but  the  proprietary 
disabilities  of  married  females 
stand  on  quite  a different  basis 
from  their  personal  incapacities, 
and  it  is  by  keeping  alive  and  con- 
solidating the  former  that  the  ex- 
positors of  the  canon  law  have 
deeply  injured  civilisation.  There 
are  many  vestiges  of  a struggle 
between  the  secular  and  ecclesias- 
tical principles  ; but  the  canon  law 
nearly  everywhere  prevailed.’ — 
Maine's  Ancient  Law,  p.  158.  I 
may  observe  that  the  Bussian  law 
was  early  very  favourable  to  tha 
proprietary  rights  of  married 
women.  See  a remarkable  letter 
in  the  Memoirs  cf  the  Princess 
Daschkaw  (edited  by  Mrs.  Brad- 
ford: London,  1840),  vol.  ii.  p 
404. 


310 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


close  of  tlie  last  century.  The  French  revolutionists,  though 
rejecting  the  proposal  of  Sieyes  and  ConJorcet  to  accord 
political  emancipation  to  women,  established  at  least  an  equal 
succession  of  sons  and  daughters,  and  thus  initiated  a great 
reformation  of  both  law  and  opinion,  which  sooner  or  later 
must  traverse  the  world. 

In  their  efforts  to  raise  the  standard  of  purity,  the 
Christian  teachers  derived  much  assistance  from  the  incur- 
sions and  the  conquests  of  the  barbarians.  The  dissolution 
of  vast  retinues  of  slaves,  the  suspension  of  most  public 
games,  and  the  general  impoverishment  that  followed  the 
invasions,  were  all  favourable  to  female  virtue;  and  in  this 
respect  the  various  tribes  of  barbarians,  however  violent  and 
lawless,  were  far  superior  to  the  more  civilised  community. 
Tacitus,  in  a very  famous  work,  had  long  before  pourtrayed 
in  the  most  flattering  colours  the  purity  of  the  Germans. 
Adultery,  he  said,  was  very  rare  among  them.  The  adul- 
teress was  driven  from  the  house  with  shaven  hair,  and 
beaten  ignominiously  through  the  village.  Neither  youth, 
nor  beauty,  nor  wealth  could  enable  a woman  who  was 
known  to  have  sinned  to  secure  a husband.  Polygamy  was 
restricted  to  the  princes,  who  looked  upon  a plurality  of 
wives  rather  as  a badge  of  dignity  than  as  a gratification  of 
the  passions.  Mothers  invariably  gave  suck  to  their  own 
children.  Infanticide  was  forbidden.  Widows  were  not 
allowed  to  re-marry.  The  men  feared  captivity,  much  more 
for  their  wives  than  for  themselves;  they  believed  that  a 
sacred  and  prophetic  gift  resided  in  women ; they  consulted 
them  as  oracles,  and  followed  their  counsels. 1 

It  is  generally  believed,  and  it  is  not  improbable,  that 
Tacitus  in  this  work  intended  to  reprove  the  dissolute  habits 
of  his  fellow-countrymen,  and  considerably  over-coloured  tho 
virtue  of  the  barbarians.  Of  the  substantial  justice,  however, 


1 Germania , cap.  ix.  xviii.-xx. 


THE  POSITION  OE  WOMEN. 


341 


of  Ik's  picture  we  have  much  evidence.  Salvian,  who,  about 
three  centuries  later,  witnessed  and  described  the  manners  of 
the  barbarians  who  had  triumphed  over  the  Empire,  attested 
in  the  strongest  language  the  contrast  which  them  chastity 
presented  to  the  vice  of  those  whom  they  had  subdued.1  The 
'Scandinavian  mythology  abounds  in  legends  exliibiting  the 
clear  sentiment  of  the  heathen  tribes  on  the  subject  of  purity, 
and  the  awful  penalties  threatened  in  the  next  world  against 
the  seducers.2  The  barbarian  women  were  accustomed  to  prac- 
tise medicine  and  to  interpret  dreams,  and  they  also  very 
frequently  accompanied  their  husbands  to  battle,  rallied  their 
broken  forces,  and  even  themselves  took  part  in  the  fight.3 
Augustus  had  discovered  that  it  was  useless  to  keep  bar- 
barian chiefs  as  hostages,  and  that  the  one  way  of  securing 
the  fidelity  of  traitors  was  by  taking  their  wives,  for  these, 
at  least,  were  never  sacrificed.  Instances  of  female  heroism 
are  said  to  have  occurred  among  the  conquered  nations  which 
might  rival  the  most  splendid  in  Roman  annals.  When  Ma- 
rius had  vanquished  an  army  of  the  Teutons,  their  wives 
besought  the  conqueror  to  permit  them  to  become  the  ser- 
vants of  the  Vestal  Virgins,  in  order  that  their  honour,  at 
least,  might  be  secure  in  slavery.  Their  request  was  refused, 
and  that  night  they  all  perished  by  their  own  hands.4  A 
powerful  noble  once  solicited  the  hand  of  a Galatian  lady 
named  Gamma,  who,  faithful  to  her  husband,  resisted  all  his 
entreaties.  Resolved  at  any  hazard  to  succeed,  he  caused  her 
husband  to  be  assassinated,  and  when  she  took  refuge  in  the 
temple  of  Diana,  and  enrolled  herself  among  the  priestesses, 
he  sent  noble  after  noble  to  induce  her  to  relent.  After 
a time,  he  ventured  himself  into  her  presence.  She  feigned 


1 De  Gubcrnatione  Dei.  Marcel  linns,  xv  12;  Vopiscna, 

1 See,  for  these  legends,  Mai-  Aure/ianus ; Floras,  iii.  3. 
let’s  Northern  Antiquities.  * Valor.  Max.  vi.  1;  Hieron, 

3 Tacitus,  Germ.  0;  Hist.  iv.  Ej>.  cxxiii, 

IS  ; Xiphiiin.  lxxi.  3 ; Amm. 

54 


312 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


a willingness  to  yield,  but  told  him  it  was  first  necessary  to 
make  a libation  to  the  goddess.  She  appeared  as  a priestess 
before  the  altar,  bearing  in  her  hand  a cup  of  wine,  -which 
she  had  poisoned.  She  drank  half  of  it  herself,  handed  the 
jemainder  to  her  guilty  lover,  and  when  he  bad  drained  the 
cup  to  the  dregs,  burst  into  a fierce  thanksgiving,  that  she 
had  been  permitted  to  avenge,  and  was  soon  to  rejoin,  her 
murdered  husband.1  Another  and  still  more  remarkable 
instance  of  conjugal  fidelity  was  furnished  by  a Gaulish 
woman  named  Epponina.  Her  husband,  Julius  Sabinus, 
had  rebelled  against  Vespasian;  he  was  conquered,  and 
might  easily  have  escaped  to  Germany,  but  could  not  bear  to 
abandon  his  young  wife.  He  retired  to  a villa  of  his  own, 
concealed  himself  in  subterranean  cellars  that  were  below  it, 
and  instructed  a freedman  to  spread  the  report  that  he  had 
committed  suicide,  while,  to  account  for  the  disappearance  of 
his  body,  he  set  fire  to  the  villa.  Epponina,  hearing  of  the 
suicide,  for  three  days  lay  prostrate  on  the  ground  without 
eating.  At  length  the  freedman  came  to  her,  and  told  her 
that  the  suicide  was  feigned.  She  continued  her  lamenta- 
t'ons  by  day,  but  visited  her  husband  by  night.  She  became 
with  child,  but  owing,  it  is  said,  to  an  ointment,  she  suc- 
ceeded in  concealing  her  state  from  her  friends.  When  the 
hour  of  parturition  was  at  hand,  she  went  alone  into  the 
cellar,  and  without  any  assistance  or  attendance  was  de- 
livered of  twins,  whom  she  brought  up  underground.  For 
nine  years  she  fulfilled  her  task,  when  Sabinus  was  dis- 
covered, and,  to  the  lasting  disgrace  of  Vespasian,  was 
executed,  in  spite  of  the  supplications  of  his  wife,  who 
made  it  her  last  request  that  she  might  be  permitted  to 
die  with  him.2 

The  moral  purity  of  the  barbarians  was  of  a kind  alto 

* Plutarch,  De  MtiUer.  Virt.  Tho  name  of  this  heroic  wife  is 

2 Plutarch,  Amatorins;  Xiphi-  given  in  threo  different  forms, 
un.  lxvi.  1G;  Tacit.  Hist.  iv.  67. 


THE  POSITION  OF  WOMEN. 


343 


gether  different  from  that  which  the  ascetic  movement 
incn  [cated.  It  was  concentrated  exclusively  upon  marriag6. 
It  showed  itself  in  a noble  conjugal  fidelity;  but  it  was 
little  fitted  for  a life  of  celibacy,  and  did  not,  as  we  have 
seen,  prevent  excessive  disorders  among  the  priesthood.  The 
practice  of  polygamy  among  the  barbarian  kings  was  also 
for  some  centuries  unchecked,  or  at  least  unsuppressed,  by 
Christianity.  The  kings  Caribert  and  Chilperic  had  both 
many  wives  at  the  same  time.1  Clotaire  married  the  sister 
of  his  first  wife  during  the  lifetime  of  the  latter,  who,  on  the 
intention  of  the  king  being  announced,  is  reported  to  have 
said,  ‘ Let  my  lord  do  what  seemeth  good  in  his  sight,  only 
let  thy  servant  live  in  thy  favour.’ 2 Theodebert,  whose 
general  goodness  of  character  is  warmly  extolled  by  the 
episcopal  historian,  abandoned  his  first  wife  on  account  of  an 
atrocious  crime  which  she  had  committed;  took,  during  her 
lifetime,  another,  to  whom  he  had  previously  been  betrothed; 
and  upon  the  death  of  this  second  wife,  and  while  the  first 
was  still  living,  took  a third,  whom,  however,  at  a later 
period  he  murdered.3  St.  Columbanus  was  expelled  from 
Gaul  chiefly  on  account  of  his  denunciations  of  the  polygamy 
of  King  Thierry.4  Dagobert  had  three  "wives,  as  well  as  a 
multitude  of  concubines.5  Charlemagne  himself  had  at  the 
same  time  two  wives,  and  he  indulged  largely  in  concu- 
bines.6 After  this  period  examples  of  this  nature  became 
rare.  The  Popes  and  the  bishops  exercised  a strict  super- 
vision over  domestic  morals,  and  strenuously,  and  in  most 
cases  successfully,  opposed  the  attempts  of  kings  and  nobles 
to  repudiate  their  wives. 

1 On  the  polygamy  of  the  first,  5 Ibid.  lx. 

see  Greg.  Tur.  iv.  26 ; on  the  6 Eginhardus,  Vit.  Kar.  71  raff, 

polygamy  of  Chilperic,  Greg.  Tur.  xviii.  Charlemagne  had,  accord- 
17.  28;  v.  If.  ing  to  Eginhard,  four  wives,  but,  as 

2 Greg.  Tur.  iv.  3.  far  as  I can  understand,  only  twa 

3 Ibid.  iii.  25-27,36.  ' at  the  same  time. 

4 Fredegarius,  xxxvi. 


344 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


But,  notwithstanding  these  startling  facts,  there  can  he 
no  doubt  that  the  general  purity  of  the  barbarians  was  from 
the  first  superior  to  that  of  the  later  Homans,  and  it  appears 
in  many  of  their  laws.  It  has  been  very  happily  observed,1 
that  the  high  value  placed  on  this  virtue  is  well  illustrated 
by  the  fact  that  in  the  Salic  code,  while  a charge  of  cowardice 
falsely  brought  against  a man  was  only  punished  by  a fine 
of  three  solidi,  a charge  of  unchastity  falsely  brought  against 
a woman  was  punished  by  a fine  of  forty-five.  The  Teutonic 
sentiment  was  shown  in  a very  stern  legislation  against 
adultery  and  rape,2  and  curiously  minute  precautions  were 
sometimes  taken  to  guard  against  them.  A law  of  the 
Spanish  Visigoths  prohibited  surgeons  from  bleeding  any 
free  woman  except  in  the  presence  of  her  husband,  of  her 
nearest  relative,  or  at  least  of  some  properly  appointed 
witness,  and  a Salic  law  imposed  a fine  of  fifteen  pieces  of 
gold  upon  any  one  who  improperly  pressed  her  hand.3 

Under  the  influence  of  Christianity,  assisted  by  the  bar- 
barians, a vast  change  passed  gradually  over  the  world.  The 
vice  we  are  considering  was  probably  more  rare ; it  certainly 
assumed  less  extravagant  forms,  and  it  was  screened  from 
observation  with  a new  modesty.  The  theory  of  morals  had 
become  clearer,  and  the  practice  was  somewhat  improved. 
The  extreme  grossness  of  literature  had  disappeared,  and  the 
more  glaring  violations  of  marriage  were  always  censured 
and  often  repressed.  The  penitential  discipline,  and  the 
exhortations  of  the  pulpit,  diffused  abroad  an  immeasurably 
higher  sense  of  the  importance  of  purity  than  Pagan  anti- 
quity had  known  St.  Gregory  the  Great,  following  in  the 
steps  of  some  Pagan  philosophers,4  strenuously  urged  upon 


1 Smyth’s  Lecture*  on  Mochrn  p.  57. 

History,  vol.  i.  pp.  61-62.  3 See,  on  these  laws,  Lord 

2 Milman's  Hist,  of  Latin  Kames  On  Women  ; Legouve,  p.  57. 

Christianity,  vol.  i.  p.  363;  Le-  ' Favorinus  had  strongly  urged 

gouve,  Hist.  Morale  dts  Femmes,  it.  (Aul.  Gell.  Noct.  xii.  1.) 


THE  POSITION  OF  WOMEN. 


345 


mothers  the  duty  themselves  suckling  their  children ; and 
many  minute  and  stringent  precepts  were  made  against 
extravagances  of  dress  and  manners.  The  religious  insti- 
tutions of  Greece  and  Asia  Minor,  which  had  almost  conse 
crated  prostitution,  were  for  ever  abolished,  and  the  courtesan 
Bank  into  a lower  stage  of  degradation. 

Besides  these  changes,  the  duty  of  reciprocal  fidelity  in 
marriage  was  enforced  with  a new  earnestness.  The  con- 
trast between  the  levity  with  which  the  frailty  of  men  has 
in  most  ages  been  regarded,  and  the  extreme  seventy  with 
which  women  who  have  been  guilty  of  the  same  offence  have 
generally  been  treated,  forms  one  of  the  most  singular 
anomalies  in  moral  history,  and  appears  the  more  remarkable 
when  we  remember  that  the  temptation  usually  springs  from 
the  sex  which  is  so  readily  pardoned ; that  the  sex  which 
is  visited  with  such  crushing  penalties  is  proverbially  the 
most  weak ; and  that,  in  the  case  of  women,  but  not  in  the 
case  of  men,  the  vice  is  very  commonly  the  result  of  the  most 
abject  misery  and  poverty.  For  this  disparity  of  censure 
several  reasons  have  been  assigned.  The  offence  can  be  more 
surely  and  easily  detected,  and  therefore  more  certainly 
punished,  in  the  case  of  women  than  of  men ; and,  as  the  duty 
of  providing  for  his  children  falls  upon  the  father,  the  intro- 
duction into  the  family  of  children  who  are  not  his  own  is  a 
special  injury  to  him,  while  illegitimate  children  who  do  not 
spring  from  adultery  will  probably,  on  account  of  their  father 
having  entered  into  no  compact  to  support  them,  ultimately 
become  criminals  or  paupers,  and  therefore  a burden  to 
society.1  It  may  be  added,  I think,  that  several  causes 
render  the  observance  of  this  virtue  more  difficult  for  one  sex 
than  for  the  other  ; that  its  violation,  when  every  allowance 
has  been  made  for  the  moral  degradation  which  is  a result  of 


' These  are  the  reasons  given  by  Malthus,  On  Population,  book 

iii.  ch.  ii. 


316 


HISTOBY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


the  existing  condition  of  public  opinion,  is  naturally  more 
profoundly  prejudicial  to  the  character  of  women  than  of 
men ; and  also  that  much  of  our  feeling  on  these  subjects  is 
due  to  laws  and  moral  systems  which  were  formed  by  men, 
and  were  in  the  first  instance  intended  for  their  own  pro 
lection. 

The  passages  in  the  Fathers,  asserting  the  equality  of  tlio 
obligation  imposed  upon  both  sexes,  are  exceedingly  unequi- 
vocal ; 1 and  although  the  doctrine  itself  had  been  anticipated, 
by  Seneca  and  Plutarch,  it  had  probably  never  before,  and  it 
has  never  since,  been  so  fully  realised  as  in  the  early  Church. 
It  cannot,  however,  be  said  that  the  conquest  has  been 
retained.  At  the  present  day,  although  the  standard  of 
morals  is  far  higher  than  in  Pagan  Pome,  it  may  be 
questioned  whether  the  inequality  of  the  censure  which  is 
bestowed  upon  the  two  sexes  is  not  as  great  as  in  the  days 
of  Paganism,  and  that  inequality  is  continually  the  cause  of 
the  most  shameful  and  the  most  pitiable  injustice.  In  oue 
respect,  indeed,  a great  retrogression  resulted  from  chivalry, 
and  long  survived  its  decay.  The  character  of  the  seducer, 
and  especially  of  the  passionless  seducer  who  pursues  his 
career  simply  as  a kind  of  sport,  and  under  the  influence  of 
no  stronger  motive  than  vanity  or  a spirit  of  adventure,  has 
been  glorified  and  idealised  in  the  popular  literature  of 
Christendom  in  a manner  to  which  we  can  find  no  parallel 
in  antiquity.  When  we  reflect  that  the  object  of  such  a man 
is  by  the  coldest  and  most  deliberate  treachery  to  blast  the 

1 St.  Augustine  ( De  Conj.  stupm  atque  adnlterio  condemnato 
Adult,  ii.  19)  maintains  that  adul-  passim  per  lupanaria  et  ancillulas 
tery  is  even  more  criminal  in  the  libido  permittitur,  quasi  culpam 
man  than  in  the  woman.  St.  dignitas  faciat  non  voluntas.  Apud 
Jerome  has  an  impressive  passage  nos  quod  non  licet  feminis  asque 
on  the  subject:  ‘Aliae  sunt  leges  non  licet  viris;  et  eadem  serviUis 
Caesarum,  aliae  Christi  ; aliud  pari  conditions  censetur.’ — Ep. 
Fapianus,  aliud  Paulus  nostri  lxxvii.  St.  Chrysostom  writes  in 
praecepit.  Apud  illos  viris  impu-  a similar  strain, 
dicitice  fraena  laxantur  et  solo 


THE  POSITION  OF  WOMEN". 


lives  of  innocent  women ; wlien  we  compare  the  levity  of 
his  motive  with  the  irreparable  injury  he  inflicts ; ami  when 
we  remember  that  he  can  only  deceive  his  victim  by 
persuading  her  to  love  him,  and  can  only  ruin  her  by 
persuading  her  to  trust  him,  it  must  be  owned  that  it  would 
bo  difficult  to  conceive  a cruelty  more  wanton  and  more 
heartless,  or  a character  combining  more  numerous  elements 
of  infamy  and  of  dishonour.  That  such  a character  should 
for  many  centuries  have  been  the  popular  ideal  of  a con- 
siderable section  of  literature,  and  the  boast  of  numbers 
who  most  plume  themselves  upon  their  honour,  is  assuredly 
one  of  the  most  mournful  facts  in  history,  and  it  represents 
a moral  deflection  certainly  not  less  than  was  revealed 
in  ancient  Greece  by  the  position  that  was  assigned  to  the 
courtesan. 

The  fundamental  truth,  that  the  same  act  can  never  be  at 
once  venial  for  a man  to  demand,  and  infamous  for  a woman 
to  accord,  though  nobly  enforced  by  the  early  Christians,  has 
not  passed  into  the  popular  sentiment  of  Christendom.  The 
mystical  character,  however,  which  the  Church  imparted  to 
marriage  has  been  extremely  influential.  Partly  by  raising 
it  into  a sacrament,  and  partly  by  representing  it  as,  in 
some  mysterious  and  not  very  definable  sense,  an  image  of 
the  union  of  Christ  with  His  Church,  a feeling  was  fostered 
that  a lifelong  union  of  one  man  and  one  woman  is,  under 
all  circumstances,  the  single  form  of  intercourse  between  the 
sexes  which  is  not  illegitimate ; and  this  conviction  lias 
acquired  the  force  of  a primal  moral  intuition. 

There  can,  I think,  be  little  doubt  that,  in  the  stringency 
with  which  it  is  usually  laid  down,  it  rests  not  upon  the  law 
of  nature,  but  upon  positive  law,  although  unassisted  nature 
is  sufficient  to  lead  men  many  steps  in  its  direction.  Con- 
sidering the  subject  simply  in  the  light  of  unaided  reason, 
two  rules  comprise  the  whole  duty  of  man.  He  must  ab- 
stain from  rvhatever  injures  happiness  or  degrades  character 


318  HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 

Under  the  first  head,  he  must  include  the  more  remote 
as  well  as  the  immediate  consequences  of  his  act.  He  must 
consider  how  his  partner  will  be  affected  by  the  ui.  ion,  tho 
light  in  which  society  will  view  the  connection,  the  probable 
position  of  the  children  to  be  born,  the  effect  of  these  births, 
and  also  the  effect  of  his  example  upon  the  well-being  of 
society  at  large.  Some  of  the  elements  of  this  calculation 
vary  in  different  stages  of  society.  Thus,  public  opinion  in 
one  age  will  reprobate,  and  therefore  punish,  connections 
which,  in  another  age,  are  fully  sanctioned  ; and  the  probable 
position  of  the  children,  as  well  as  the  effect  of  the  births 
upon  society,  will  depend  greatly  upon  particular  and 
national  circumstances. 

Under  the  second  head  is  comprised  the  influence  of  this 
intercourse  in  clouding  or  developing  the  moral  feelings, 
lowering  or  elevating  the  tone  of  character,  exciting  or  allay- 
ing the  aberrations  of  the  imagination,  incapacitating  men  for 
pure  affections  or  extending  their  range,  making  the  animal 
part  of  our  nature  more  or  less  predominant.  We  know,  by 
the  intuition  of  our  moral  nature,  that  this  predominance  is 
always  a degraded,  though  it  is  not  always  an  unhappy,  con- 
dition. We  also  know  that  it  is  a law  of  our  being,  that 
powerful  and  beautiful  affections,  which  had  before  been 
latent,  are  evoked  in  some  particular  forms  of  union,  while 
other  forms  of  union  are  peculiarly  fitted  to  deaden  the 
affections  and  to  pervert  the  character. 

In  these  considerations  we  have  ample  grounds  for 
maintaining  that  the  lifelong  union  of  one  man  and  of  one 
woman  should  be  the  normal  or  dominant  type  of  intercourse 
between  the  sexes.  We  can  prove  that  it  is  on  the  whole 
most  conducive  to  the  happiness,  and  also  to  the  moral 
elevation,  of  all  parties.  But  beyond  this  point  it  would, 
I conceive,  be  impossible  to  advance,  except  by  the  assistance 
of  a special  revelation.  It  by  no  means  follows  that  because 
this  should  be  the  dominant  type  it  should  be  the  only  one, 


THE  POSITION  OE  WOMEN. 


S49 

or  that  the  interests  of  society  demand  that  all  connections 
should  be  forced  into  the  same  die.  Connections,  which  were 
confessedly  only  for  a few  years,  have  always  subsisted  side 
by  side  with  permanent  marriages;  and  in  periods  when  pub 
lie  opinion,  acquiescing  in  their  propriety,  inflicts  no  excom 
nunication  on  one  or  both  of  the  partners,  when  these 
partners  are  not  living  the  demoralising  and  degrading  life 
which  accompanies  the  consciousness  of  guilt,  and  when 
proper  provision  is  made  for  the  children  who  are  bom,  it 
would  be,  I believe,  impossible  to  prove,  by  the  light  of 
simple  and  unassisted  reason,  that  such  connections  should  be 
invariably  condemned.  It  is  extremely  important,  both  for 
the  happiness  and  for  the  moral  well-being  of  men,  that  life- 
long unions  should  not  be  effected  simply  under  the  imperious 
prompting  of  a blind  appetite.  There  are  always  multitudes 
who,  in  the  period  of  their  lives  when  their  passions  are  most 
strong,  aie  incapable  of  supporting  children  in  their  own 
social  rank,  and  who  would  therefore  injure  society  by 
marrying  in  it,  but  are  nevertheless  perfectly  capable  of 
securing  an  honourable  career  for  their  illegitimate  children 
in  the  lower  social  sphere  to  which  these  would  naturally 
belong.  Under  the  conditions  I have  mentioned,  these 
connections  are  not  injurious,  but  beneficial,  to  the  weaker 
partner ; they  soften  the  differences  of  rank,  they  stimulate 
social  habits,  and  they  do  not  produce  upon  character  the 
degrading  effect  of  promiscuous  intercourse,  or  upon  society 
the  injurious  effects  of  imprudent  marriages,  one  or  other  of 
which  will  multiply  in  their  absence.  In  the  immense 
variety  of  circumstances  and  characters,  cases  will  always 
appear  in  which,  on  utilitarian  grounds,  they  might  seem 
a Ivisable. 

It  is  necessary  to  dwell  upon  such  considerations  as  these, 
if  we  would  understand  the  legislation  of  the  Pagan  Empire 
or  the  changes  that  were  effected  by  Christianity.  The 
legislators  of  the  Empire  distinctly  recognised  these  con- 


o50 


1I1ST0EY  OF  EUEOPEAN  MOEALS. 


nections,  and  made  it  a main  object  to  authorise,  dignify,  and 
regulate  them.  The  unlimited  licence  of  divorce  practically 
included  them  under  the  name  of  marriage,  while  that  name 
sheltered  them  from  stigma,  and  prevented  many  of  the 
gravest  evils  of  unauthorised  unions.  The  word  concubine 
also,  which  in  the  Republic  had  the  same  signification  as 
among  ourselves,  represented  in  the  Empire  a strictly  legal 
union — an  innovation  which  was  chiefly  due  to  Augustus, 
and  was  doubtless  intended  as  part  of  the  legislation  against 
celibacy,  and  also,  it  may  be,  as  a corrective  of  the  licentious 
habits  that  were  general.  This  union  was  in  essentials 
merely  a form  of  marriage,  for  lie  who,  having  a concubine, 
took  to  himself  either  a wife  or  another  concubine,  was 
legally  guilty  of  adultery.  Like  the  commonest  form  of 
marriage,  it  was  consummated  without  any  ceremony,  and 
was  dissoluble  at  will.  Its  peculiarities  were  that  it  was 
contracted  between  men  of  patrician  rank  and  freedwomen, 
who  were  forbidden  by  law  to  intermarry ; that  the  concubine, 
though  her  position  was  perfectly  recognised  and  honourable, 
did  not  share  the  rank  of  her  partner,  that  she  brought  no 
dowry,  and  that  her  children  followed  her  rank,  and  were 
excluded  from  the  rank  and  the  inheritance  of  their 
father. 1 

Against  these  notions  Christianity  declared  a direct  and 
implacable  warfare,  which  was  imperfectly  reflected  in  the 
civil  legislation,  but  appeared  unequivocally  in  the  writings 
of  the  Fathers,  and  in  most  of  the  decrees  of  the  Councils.2 


'See  Troplong,  Influence  du  munieet.  C;eterum  is  qui  non  liahet 
Christianisme  sur  le  Droit,  pp-239-  uxorem  et  pro  uxors  concubinara 
20] . habet  a communions  non  repellatur, 

3 We  find,  however,  traces  of  a tantum  utunius  mulieris,  aut  uxoris 
toleration  oftheKoman  type  of  con-  aut  concubin®  ut  ei  placuerit,  sit 
ijubine  in  Christianity  for  some  conjunctions  contentus.’ — 1 Can. 
time.  Thus,  a Council  of  Toledo  17.  St.  Isidore  said : ‘ Christiano 
decreed  : ‘ Si  quis  habens  uxorem  non  dicam  plurimas  sed  nec  duas 
fidelis  concubinarn  hubeat  non  com-  simul  habere  licitum  est,  nisi  una.ni 


THE  POSITION  OF  WOMEN. 


351 


It  taught,  as  a religious  dogma,  invariable,  inflexible,  and 
independent  of  all  utilitarian  calculations,  that  all  forms  of 
intercourse  of  the  sexes,  other  than  lifelong  unions,  wero 
criminal.  By  teaching  men  to  regard  this  doctrine  as  axiom 
atic,  and  therefore  inflicting  severe  social  penalties  and 
deep  degradation  on  transient  connections,  it  has  profoundly 
modified  even  their  utilitarian  aspect,  and  has  rendered  them 
in  most  countries  furtive  and  disguised.  There  is  probably 
no  other  branch  of  ethics  which  has  been  so  largely  deter- 
mined by  special  dogmatic  theology,  and  there  is  none  which 
would  be  so  deeply  affected  by  its  decay. 

As  a part  of  the  same  movement,  the  purely  civil  mar- 
riage of  the  later  Pagan  Empire  was  gradually  replaced  by 
religious  marriages.  There  is  a manifest  propriety  in 
invoking  a divine  benediction  upon  an  act  which  forms  so 
important  an  epoch  in  life,  and  the  mingling  of  a religious 
ceremony  impresses  a deeper  sense  of  the  solemnity  of  the 
contract.  The  essentially  religious  and  even  mystical  cha- 
racter imparted  by  Christianity  to  marriage  rendered  the 
consecration  peculiarly  natural,  but  it  was  only  very 
gradually  that  it  came  to  be  looked  upon  as  absolutely 
necessary.  As  I have  already  noticed,  it  was  long  dispensed 
with  in  the  marriage  of  slaves ; and  even  in  the  case  of 
freemen,  though  generally  performed,  it  was  not  made  com- 
pulsory till  the  tenth  century.1  In  addition  to  its  primary 
object  of  sanctifying  marriage,  it  became  in  time  a powerful 


tantum  aut  uxorem,  aut  certo  loco 
uxoris,  si  conjux  deest,  coneubinam.’ 
— Apud  Gratianum,  diss.4.  Quoted 
by  Natalis  Alexander,  Hist.  Eccles. 
Saec.  I.  diss.  29.  Mr.  Lea  (Hist,  of 
Sacerdotal  Celibacy , pp.  203-205) 
has  devoted  an  extremely  interest- 
ing note  to  tracing  the  history  of 
the  vord  concubine  through'  the 
middle  ages.  He  shows  that  even 


up  to  the  thirteenth  century  a con- 
cubine was  not  necessarily  tin  aban- 
doned woman.  The  term  was  ap- 
plied to  marriages  that  were  real 
but  not  officially  recognised.  Cole- 
ridge notices  a remarkable  instance 
of  the  revival  of  this  custom  in 
German  history. — Notes  on  English 
Divines  (ed.  18531,  vol.  i.  p.  22i. 

1 Legouve,  p.  199. 


352 


HISTORY  OR  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


instrument  in  securing  the  authority  of  the  priesthood,  -who 
were  able  to  compel  men  to  submit  to  the  conditions  they 
imposed  in  the  formation  of  the  most  important  contract  of 
life;  and  the  modern  authorisation  of  civil  marriages,  by 
diminishing  greatly  the  power  of  the  Catholic  priesthood 
over  domestic  life,  has  been  one  of  the  most  severe  blows 
ecclesiastical  influence  has  undergone. 

The  absolute  sinfulness  of  divorce  was  at  the  same  time 
strenuously  maintained  by  the  Councils,  which  in  this,  as 
in  many  other  points,  differed  widely  from  the  civil  law. 
Constantine  restricted  it  to  three  cases  of  crime  on  the  part 
of  the  husband,  and  three  on  the  part  of  the  wife ; but  the 
habits  of  the  people  were  too  strong  for  his  enactments,  and, 
after  one  or  two  changes  in  the  law,  the  full  latitude  of 
divorce  reappeared  in  the  Justinian  Code.  The  Fathers,  on 
the  other  hand,  though  they  hesitated  a little  about  the  case 
of  a divorce  which  followed  an  act  of  adultery  on  the  part  of 
the  wife,1  had  no  hesitation  whatever  in  pronouncing  all 
other  divorces  to  be  criminal,  and  periods  of  penitential 
discipline  were  imposed  upon  Christians  who  availed  them- 
selves of  the  privileges  of  the  civil  law.2  For  many  centuries 
this  duality  of  legislation  continued.  The  barbarian  laws 
restricted  divorce  by  imposing  severe  fines  on  those  who 
repudiated  their  wives.  Charlemagne  pronounced  divorce  to 
be  criminal,  but  did  not  venture  to  make  it  penal,  and  he 
practised  it  himself.  On  the  other  hand,  the  Church  threat- 
ened with  excommunication,  and  in  some  cases  actually 
launched  its  thunders  against,  those  who  were  guilty  of  it. 
It  was  only  in  the  twelfth 'century  that  the  victory  was 

] See  some  curious  passages  in  for  a husband  whose  wife  had  com 
Troplong,  pp.  222-223.  The  Fathers  roitted  adultery  to  re-marry. 

Deem  to  have  thought  dissolution  2 Some  of  the  great  charities  of 
nf  marriage  was  not  lawful  on  ac-  Fabiola  were  performed  as  pe- 
count  of  the  adultery  of  tho  hus-  nances,  on  account,  of  her  crime  in 
band,  but,  that  it  was  not  absolutely  availing  herself  of  the  legislative 
unlawful,  though  not  commendable,  permission  of  divorce. 


THE  POSITION  OF  WOMEN. 


353 


definitely  achieved,  and  the  civil  law,  adopting  the  principle 
of  the  canon  law,  prohibited  all  divorce.1 

I do  not  propose  in  the  present  work  to  examine  how  far 
this  total  prohib.tion  has  been  for  the  happiness  or  the  moral 
well-being  of  men.  I will  simply  observe  that,  though  it  is 
now  often  defended,  it  was  not  originally  imposed  in  Christian 
nations,  upon  utilitarian  grounds,  but  was  based  upon  the  sacra- 
mental character  of  marriage,  upon  the  belief  that  marriage 
is  the  special  symbol  of  the  perpetual  union  of  Christ  with 
His  Church,  and  upon  a well-known  passage  in  the  Gospels. 
The  stringency  of  the  Catholic  doctrine,  which  forbids  the 
dissolution  of  marriage  even  in  the  case  of  adultery,  has 
been  considerably  relaxed  by  modern  legislation,  and  there 
can,  I think,  be  little  doubt  that  further  steps  vail  yet  be 
taken  in  the  same  direction ; but  the  vast  change  that  was 
effected  in  both  practice  and  theory  since  the  unlimited 
licence  of  the  Pagan  Empire  must  be  manifest  to  all. 

It  was  essential,  or  at  least  very  important,  that  a union 
which  was  so  solemn  and  so  irrevocable  should  be  freely 
contracted.  The  sentiment  of  the  Poman  patriots  towards 
the  close  of  the  Republic  was  that  marriage  should  be 
regarded  as  a means  of  providing  children  for  the  State,  and 
should  be  entered  into  as  a matter  of  duty  with  that  view, 
and  the  laws  of  Augustus  had  imposed  many  disqualifications 
on  those  who  abstained  from  it.  Both  of  these  inducements 
to  marriage  passed  away  under  the  influence  of  Christianity. 
The  popular  sentiment  disappeared  with  the  decline  of  civic 
virtues.  The  laws  were  rescinded  under  the  influence  of  the 
ascetic  enthusiasm  which  made  men  regard  the  state  of 
relibacy  as  pre-eminently  holy. 

There  was  still  one  other  important  condition  to  be 
&l  tamed  by  theologians  in  order  to  realise  their  ideal  type  of 


1 Laboulaye,  Eccherclies  sur  la  Condition  civile  et  politique  rle l 
Femmes,  pp.  15‘2-lo8. 


354 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


marriage.  It  was  to  prevent  the  members  of  the  Chnicn 
from  intermarrying  with  those  whose  religions  opinions 
differed  from  their  own.  Mixed  marriages,  it  has  been  truly 
said,  may  do  more  than  almost  any  other  influence  to  assuage 
the  rancour  and  the  asperity  of  sects,  but  it  must  be  added 
that  a considerable  measure  of  tolerance  must  have  been 
already  attained  before  they  become  possible.  In  a union  in 
which  each  partner  believes  and  realises  that  the  other  is 
doomed  to  an  eternity  of  misery  there  can  be  no  real 
happiness,  no  sympathy,  no  trust ; and  a domestic  agreement 
that  some  of  the  children  should  be  educated  in  one  religion 
and  some  in  the  other  would  be  impossible  when  each  parent 
b'elieved  it  to  be  an  agreement  that  some  children  should  be 
doomed  to  hell. 

The  domestic  unhappiness  arising  from  differences  of 
belief  was  probably  almost  or  altogether  unknown  in  the 
world  before  the  introduction  of  Christianity ; for,  although 
differences  of  opinion  may  have  before  existed,  the  same 
momentous  consequences  were  not  attached  to  them.  It  has 
been  the  especial  bane  of  periods  of  great  religious  change, 
such  as  the  conversion  of  the  Roman  Empire,  or  the  Re- 
formation, or  our  own  day  when  far  more  serious  questions 
than  those  which  agitated  the  sixteenth  century  are  occupying 
the  attention  of  a large  proportion  of  thinkers  and  scholars, 
and  when  the  deep  and  widening  chasm  between  the  religious 
opinions  of  most  highly  educated  men,  and  of  the  immense 
majority  of  women,  is  painfully  apparent.  While  a multitude 
of  scientific  discoveries,  critical  and  historical  researches,  and 
educational  reforms  have  brought  thinking  men  face  to  face 
with  religious  problems  of  extreme  importance,  women  have 
been  almost  absolutely  excluded  from  their  influence.  Their 
minds  are  usually  by  nature  less  capable  than  those  of  men 
of  impartiality  and  suspense,  and  the  almost  complete  omission 
from  female  education  of  those  studies  which  most  discipline 
and  strengthen  the  intellect  increases  the  difference,  while  at 


THE  POSITION  OF  WOMEN. 


355 


the  same  time  it  has  been  usually  made  a main  object  to 
imbue  them  with  a passionate  faith  in  traditional  opinions, 
and  to  preserve  them  from  all  contact  with  opposing  views. 
But  contracted  knowledge  and  imperfect  sympathy  are  not 
the  sole  fruits  of  this  education.  It  has  always  been  the 
peculiarity  of  a certain  kind  of  theological  teacliing  that 
it  inverts  all  the  normal  principles  of  judgment,  and  abso- 
lutely destroys  intellectual  diffidence.  On  other  subjects  we 
find,  if  not  a respect  for  honest  conviction,  at  least  some  sense 
of  the  amount  of  knowledge  that  is  requisite  to  entitle  men 
to  express  an  opinion  on  grave  controversies.  A complete 
ignorance  of  the  subject-matter  of  a dispute  restrains  the 
confidence  of  dogmatism ; and  an  ignorant  person,  who  is 
aware  that,  by  much  reading  and  thinking  in  spheres  of 
which  he  has  himself  no  knowledge,  his  educated  neighbour 
has  modified  or  rejected  opinions  which  that  ignorant  person 
had  been  taught,  will,  at  least  if  he  is  a man  of  sense  or 
modesty,  abstain  from  compassionating  the  benighted  con- 
dition of  his  more  instructed  friend.  But  on  theological 
questions  this  has  never  been  so.  Unfaltering  belief  being 
taught  as  the  first  of  duties,  and  all  doubt  being  usually 
stigmatised  as  criminal  or  damnable,  a state  of  mind  is 
formed  to  which  we  find  no  parallel  in  other  fields.  Many 
men  and  most  women,  though  completely  ignorant  of  the 
very  rudiments  of  biblical  criticism,  historical  research,  or 
scientific  discoveries,  though  they  have  never  read  a single 
page,  or  understood  a single  proposition  of  the  writings  of 
those  whom  they  condemn,  and  have  absolutely  no  rational 
knowledge  either  of  the  arguments  by  which  their  faith  ia 
defended,  or  of  those  by  which  it  has  been  impugned,  will 
nevertheless  adjudicate  with  the  utmost  confidence  upon 
every  polemical  question ; denounce,  hate,  pity,  or  pray  for 
f lie  conversion  of  all  who  dissent  from  what  they  have  keen 
taught;  assume,  as  a matter  beyond  the  faintest  possibility  of 
doubt,  that  the  opinions  they  have  received  without  enquiry 


356 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


must  be  true,  and  that  the  opinions  which  others  have 
arrived  at  by  enquiry  must  be  false,  and  make  it  a main 
object  of  their  lives  to  assail  what  they  call  heresy  in  every 
way  in  their  power,  except  by  examining  the  grounds  on 
which  it  rests.  It  is  probable  that  the  great  majority  of 
voices  that  swell  the  clamour  against  every  book  which  is 
regarded  as  heretical  are  the  voices  of  those  who  would  deem 
it  criminal  even  to  open  that  book,  or  to  enter  into  any  real, 
searching,  and  impartial  investigation  of  the  subject  to  which 
it  relates.  Innumerable  pulpits  support  this  tone  of  thought, 
and  represent,  with  a fervid  rhetoric  well  fitted  to  excite  the 
nerves  and  imaginations  of  women,  the  deplorable  condition 
of  all  who  deviate  from  a certain  type  of  opinions  or  of 
emotions ; a blind  propagandism  or  a secret  wretchedness 
penetrates  into  countless  households,  poisoning  the  peace  of 
families,  chilling  the  mutual  confidence  of  husband  and  wife, 
adding  immeasurably  to  the  difficulties  which  every  searcher 
into  truth  has  to  encounter,  and  diffusing  far  and  wide 
intellectual  timidity,  disingenuousness,  and  hypocrisy. 

These  domestic  divisions  became  very  ^apparent  in  tho 
period  of  the  conversion  of  the  Roman  Empire ; and  a natural 
desire  to  guard  intact  the  orthodoxy  and  zeal  of  the  converts, 
and  to  prevent  a continual  discordance,  stimulated  the 
Fathers  in  their  very  vehement  denunciations  of  all  mixed 
marriages.  We  may  also  trace  in  these  denunciations  the 
outline  of  a very  singular  doctrine,  which  was  afterwards 
suffered  to  fall  into  obscurity,  but  was  revived  in  the  last 
century  in  England  in  a curious  and  learned  work  of  the 
nonjuror  Dodwell.1  The  union  of  Christ  and  His  Church 

'•A  discourse  concerning  the  1702.)  The  reader  may  find  some* 
obligation  to  marry  within  tho  true  thing  about  Dodwell  in  Macaulay’s 
communion,  following  from  their  Hist,  of  England,  ch.  xiv. ; but 
style  (sic)  of  being  called  a holy  Macaulay,  who  does  not  appear 
seed.’  This  rare  discourse  is  ap-  to  have  known  Dod well's  master- 
pended  to  a sermon  against  mixed  piece — his  dissertation  De  Vmicilntf 
marriages  by  Leslie.  (London,  Marlgrnm, which  is  one  of ' lie  (Inest 


the  rosiTKEsr  of  women'. 


357 


cad  been  represented  as  a marriage ; and  this  image  was  not 
tegarded  as  a mere  metaphor  or  comparison,  but  as  intimat- 
ing a mysterious  unity,  which,  though  not  susceptible  of  auy 
very  clear  definition,  was  not  on  that  account  the  less  real. 
Christians  were  the  ‘limbs  of  Christ,’  and  for  them  to  join 
themselves  in  marriage  with  those  who  were  not  of  the 
Christian  fold  was  literally,  it  was  said,  a species  of  adultery 
or  fornication.  The  intermarriage  of  the  Israelites,  the 
chosen  seed  of  the  ancient  world,  with  the  Gentiles,  had  been 
described  in  the  Old  Testament  as  an  act  of  impurity ; 1 and 
in  the  opinion  of  some,  at  least,  of  the  Fathers,  the  Christian 
community  occupied  towards  the  unbelievers  a position 
analogous  to  that  which  the  Jews  had  occupied  towards  the 
Gentiles.  St.  Cyprian  denounced  the  crime  of  those  * who 
prostitute  the  limbs  of  Christ  in  marriage  with  the  Gentiles.’ 2 
Tertullian  described  the  intermarriage  as  fornication  • 3 and 
after  the  triumph  of  the  Church,  the  intermarriage  of  Jews 
and  Christians  was  made  a capital  offence,  and  was  stigma- 
tised by  the  law  as  adultery.4  The  civil  law  did  not 
prohibit  the  orthodox  from  intermarrying  with  heretics,  but 
many  councils  in  strong  terms  denounced  such  marriages  as 
criminal. 

The  extreme  sanctity  attributed  to  virginity,  the  absol  uto 
condemnation  of  all  forms  of  sexual  connection  other  than 
marriage,  and  the  formation  and  gradual  realisation  of  the 
Christian  conception  of  marriage  as  a permanent  union  of  a 


specimens  of  criticism  of  his  time — - 
and  who  only  knew  the  di.-course  on 
marriages  by  extracts,  has,  I think, 
done  him  considerable  injustice. 

Dodwell  relies  mainly  upon 
this  fact,  and  especially  upon  Ezra's 
having  treated  these  marriages  as 
essentially  null. 

2 * Jungere  cum  infidelibus  vin- 
culum matrimonii,  prostituere  gen- 
tilibus  membra  Christi.’ — Cyprian, 

55 


De  Lapsis. 

3 ‘ Hsec  cum  ita  sint,  fideles 
Gentilium  matrimonia  subeuntes 
stupri  reos  esse  constat,  et  arcendos 
ab  omni  communicatione  fraterni- 
tatis.’ — Tert.  Ad  Uxor.  ii.  3. 

1 See  on  this  law,  ar.d  on  the 
many  councils  which  condemned 
the  marriage  of  orthodox  with 
heretics,  Bingham,  Anliq.  xxii.  2, 
§§  1-2. 


353 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


man  and  woman  of  the  same  religious  opinions,  consecrated 
by  solemn  religious  services,  carrying  with  it  a deep  religious 
signification,  and  dissoluble  only  by  death,  were  the  most 
obvious  signs  of  Christian  inlluence  in  the  sphere  of  ethics 
we  are  examining.  Another  very  important  result  of  the 
new  religion  was  to  raise  to  a far  greater  honour  than  they 
had  previously  possessed,  the  qualities  in  which  women 
peculiarly  excel. 

There  are  few  more  curious  subjects  of  enquiry  than  the 
distinctive  differences  between  the  sexes,  and  the  manner  in 
which  those  differences  have  affected  the  ideal  types  of  dif- 
ferent ages,  nations,  philosophies,  and  religions.  Physically, 
men  have  the  indisputable  superiority  in  strength,  and 
women  in  beauty.  Intellectually,  a certain  inferiority  of 
the  female  sex  can  hardly  be  denied  when  we  remember  how 
almost  exclusive^  the  foremost  places  in  every  department 
of  science,  literature,  and  art  have  been  occupied  by  men, 
how  infinitesimally  small  is  the  number  of  women  who  have 
shown  in  any  form  the  very  highest  order  of  genius,  how 
many  of  the  greatest  men  have  achieved  their  greatness  in 
defiance  of  the  most  adverse  circumstances,  and  how  com- 
p'etely  women  have  failed  in  obtaining  the  first  position, 
even  in  music  or  painting,  for  the  cultivation  of  which  their 
circumstances  would  appear  most  propitious.  It  is  as  im- 
possible to  find  a female  Raphael,  or  a female  Handel,  as  a 
female  Shakspeare  or  Hew  ten.  "Women  are  intellectually 
more  desultory  and  volatile  than  men  ; they  are  more  occu- 
pied with  particular  instances  than  with  general  principles  ; 
they  judge  rather  by  intuitive  perceptions  than  by  deliberate 
reasoning  or  past  experience.  They  are,  however,  usually 
superior  to  men  in  nimbleness  and  rapidity  of  thought,  and  in 
the  gift  of  tact  or  the  power  of  seizing  speedily  and  faithfully 
the  finer  inflexions  of  feeling,  and  they  have  therefore  often 
attained  very  great  eminence  in  conversation,  as  letter- 
writers,  as  actresses,  and  as  novelists. 


TILE  POSITION  OP  WOMEN. 


359 


Morally,  the  general  superiority  of  women  over  men,  is, 
I think,  unquestionable.  If  we  take  the  somewhat  coarse 
and  inadequate  criterion  of  police  statistics,  we  find  that, 
while  the  male  and  female  populations  are  nearly  the  same 
in  number,  the  crimes  committed  by  men  are  usually  rather 
more  than  five  times  as  numerous  as  those  committed  by 
women  ; 1 and  although  it  may  be  justly  observed  that  men, 
as  the  stronger  sex,  and  the  sex  upon  whom  the  burden  of 
supporting  the  family  is  thrown,  have  more  temptations  than 
women,  it  must  be  remembered,  on  the  other  hand,  that 
extreme  poverty  which  verges  upon  starvation  is  most  com- 
mon among  women,  whose  means  of  livelihood  are  most 
restricted,  and  whose  earnings  are  smallest  and  most  pre- 
carious. Self-sacrifice  is  the  most  conspicuous  element  of  a 
virtuous  and  religious  character,  and  it  is  certainly  far  less 
common  among  men  than  among  women,  whose  whole  lives 
are  usually  spent  in  yielding  to  the  will  and  consulting  the 
pleasures  of  another.  There  are  two  great  departments  of 
virtue : the  impulsive,  or  that  which  springs  spontaneously 
from  the  emotions  ■ and  the  deliberative,  or  that  which  is 
performed  in  obedience  to  the  sense  of  duty  ; and  in  both  of 
these  I imagine  women  are  superior  to  men.  Their  sensi- 
bility is  greater,  they  are  more  chaste  both  in  thought  and 
act,  more  tender  to  the  erring,  more  compassionate  to  the 
suffering,  more  affectionate  to  all  about  them.  On  the  other 
hand,  those  who  have  traced  the  course  of  the  wives  of  the 
poor,  and  of  many  who,  though  in  narrow  circumstances, 

1 Many  curious  statistics  illus-  statistics  of  crime  are  absolutely 
tratiug  this  fact  are  given  by  M.  decisive  on  the  question  of  the  com- 
Bonneville  de  Marsangy — a Portu-  parative  morality  of  the  sexes,  and 
guese  writer  who  was  counsellor  of  also,  if  he  had  not  thought  it  due 
i,he  Imperial  Court  at  Paris — in  to  his  official  position  to  talk  in  a 
his  Etude  sur  la  Moralite  comparec  rather  grotesque  strain  about  the 
tie  la  Femme  et  de  i Homme.  (Paris,  regeneration  and  glorification  of 
18G2.)  The  writer  would  have  the  sex  in  the  person  of  the  Km 
done  better  if  he  had  not  main-  press  Eugenie, 
tainod,  in  lawyer  fashion,  that  the 


300 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


can  hardly  be  called  poor,  will  probably  admit  that  in  no 
other  class  do  we  so  often  find  entire  lives  spent  in  daily  per- 
sistent self-denial,  in  the  patient  endurance  of  countless  trials, 
in  the  ceaseless  and  deliberate  sacrifice  of  their  own  enjoy- 
ments to  the  well-being  or  the  prospects  of  others.  Women, 
however,  though  less  prone  than  men  to  intemperance  and 
brutality,  are  in  general  more  addicted  to  the  petty  forms  of 
vanity,  jealousy,  spitefulness,  and  ambition,  and  they  are 
also  inferior  to  men  in  active  courage.  In  the  courage  of 
endurance  they  are  commonly  superior ; but  their  passive 
coinage  is  not  so  much  fortitude  which  bears  and  defies,  as 
resignation  which  bears  and  bends.  In  the  ethics  of  intellect 
they  are  decidedly  inferior.  To  repeat  an  expression  I have 
already  employed,  women  very  rarely  love  truth,  though 
they  love  passionately  what  they  call  ‘ the  truth,’  or  opinions 
they  have  received  from  others,  and  hate  vehemently  those 
who  differ  from  them.  They  are  little  capable  of  impartiality 
or  of  doubt ; their-  thinking  is  chiefly  a mode  of  feeling ; 
though  very  generous  in  their  acts,  they  are  rarely  generous 
in  their-  opinions  or  in  their  judgments.  They  persuade 
rather  than  convince,  and  value  belief  rather  as  a source  of 
consolation  than  as  a faithful  expression  of  the  reality  of 
tilings.  They  are  less  capable  than  men  of  perceiving  quali- 
fying circumstances,  of  admitting  the  existence  of  elements 
of  good  in  systems  to  which  they  are  opposed,  of  distinguish- 
ing the  personal  character  of  an  opponent  from  the  opinions 
he  maintains.  Men  lean  most  to  justice  and  women  to 
mercy.  Men  excel  in  energy,  self-reliance,  perseverance,  and 
magnanimity  ; women  in  humility,  gentleness,  modesty,  and 
endurance.  The  realising  imagination  which  causes  us  to 
pity  and  to  love  is  more  sensitive  in  women  than  in  men, 
find  it  is  especially  more  capable  of  dwelling  on  the  unseen. 
Their-  religious  or  devotional  realisations  are  incontestably 
more  vivid ; and  it  is  probable  that,  wliile  a father  is  most 
moved  by  the  death  of  a child  in  his  presence,  a mother 


THE  POSITION  OF  WOMEN. 


3G1 


generally  feels  most  the  death  of  a child  in  some  distant  land. 
But,  though  more  intense,  the  sympathies  of  women  are  com- 
monly less  wide  than  those  of  men.  Their  imaginations 
individualise  more ; their  affections  are,  in  consequence,  con- 
centrated rather  on  leaders  than  on  causes ; and  if  they  care 
for  a great  cause,  it  is  generally  because  it  is  represented  by 
a great  man,  or  connected  with  some  one  whom  they  love. 
In  politics,  their  enthusiasm  is  more  naturally  loyalty  than 
patriotism,  In  history,  they  are  even  more  inclined  than 
men  to  dwell  exclusively  upon  biographical  incidents  or 
characteristics  as  distinguished  from  the  march  of  general 
causes.  In  benevolence,  they  excel  in  charity,  which  alle- 
viates individual  suffering,  rather  than  in  philanthropy, 
which  deals  with  large  masses  and  is  more  frequently  em- 
ployed in  preventing  than  in  allaying  calamity. 

It  was  a remark  of  Winckelmann  that  ‘ the  supreme 
beauty  of  Greek  art  is  rather  male  than  female ; ’ and  the 
justice  of  this  remark  has  been  amply  corroborated  by  the 
greater  knowledge  we  have  of  late  years  attained  of  the 
works  of  the  Phidian  period,  in  which  art  achieved  its 
highest  perfection,  and  in  which,  at  the  same  time,  force  and 
freedom,  and  masculine  grandeur,  were  its  pre-eminent 
characteristics.  A similar  observation  may  be  made  of  the 
moral  ideal  of  which  ancient  art  was  simply  the  expression. 
In  antiquity  the  virtues  that  were  most  admired  were  almost 
exclusively  those  which  are  distinctively  masculine.  Courage, 
self-assertion,  magnanimity,  and,  above  all,  patriotism,  were 
the  leading  features  of  the  ideal  type  ; and  chastity,  modesty, 
and  charity,  the  gentler  and  the  domestic  virtues,  which  are 
especially  feminine,  were  greatly  undervalued.  With  the 
single  exception  of  conjugal  fidelity,  none  of  the  virtues  that 
were  very  highly  prized  were  virtues  distinctively  or  pre- 
eminently feminine.  With  this  exception,  nearly  all  the 
most  illustrious  women  of  antiquity  were  illustrious  chiefly 
because  they  overcame  the  natural  conditions  of  their  sex. 


362 


HISTORY  03?  EUROPEAN'  MORALS. 


It  is  a characteristic  fact  that  the  favourite  female  ideal  of 
the  artists  appears  to  have  been  the  Amazon.1  "We  may 
admire  the  Spartan  mother,  and  the  mother  of  the  Gracchi, 
repressing  every  sign  of  grief  when  their  children  were 
sacrificed  upon  the  altar  of  their  country,  we  may  wonder  at 
tire  majestic  courage  of  a Porcia  and  an  Arria;  but  we  extol 
them  chiefly  because,  being  women,  they  emancipated  them- 
selves from  the  frailty  of  their  sex,  and  displayed  an  heroic 
fortitude  worthy  of  the  strongest  and  the  bravest  of  men. 
We  may  bestow  an  equal  admiration  upon  the  noble  devo- 
tion and  charity  of  a St.  Elizabeth  of  Hungary,  or  of  a Mrs. 
Fry,  but  we  do  not  admire  them  because  they  displayed  these 
virtues,  although  they  were  women,  for  we  feel  that  their 
virtues  were  of  the  kind  which  the  female  nature  is  most 
fitted  to  produce.  The  change  from  the  heroic  to  the  saintly 
ideal,  from  the  ideal  of  Paganism  to  the  ideal  of  Christianity, 
was  a change  from  a type  which  was  essentially  male  to  one 
which  was  essentially  feminine.  Of  all  the  great  schools  of 
philosophy  no  other  reflected  so  faithfully  the  Homan  con- 
ception of  moral  excellence  as  Stoicism,  and  the  greatest 
Homan  exponent  of  Stoicism  summed  up  its  character  in  a 
single  sentence  when  he  pronounced  it  to  be  beyond  all  other 
sects  the  most  emphatically  masculine.2  On  the  other  hand, 
an  ideal  type  in  which  meekness,  gentleness,  patience, 
humility,  faith,  and  love  are  the  most  prominent  features,  is 
not  naturally  male  but  female.  A reason  probably  deeper 
than  the  historical  ones  which  are  commonly  alleged,  why 
sculpture  has  always  been  peculiarly  Pagan  and  painting 
peculiarly  Christian,  may  be  found  in  the  fact,  that  sculpture 
is  especially  suited  to  represent  male  beauty,  or  the  beauty  of 
strength,  and  painting  female  beauty,  or  the  beauty  of  soft- 

1 See  Pliny,  Hist.  Nat.  xxxiv.  teresse,  quantum  inter  fceminas  et 

19.  mares  non  immerito  dixerim.’ — I>e 

2 ‘ Tnntnm  inter  Stoicos,  Serene,  Const.  Sapientis,  cap.  i. 
et  ceteros  sapientiam  professes  in- 


THE  POSITION  OF  WOMEN. 


303 


ness ; and  that  Pagan  sentiment  was  chiefly  a glorification 
of  the  masculine  qualities  of  strength,  and  courage,  and  con- 
scious virtue,  while  Christian  sentiment  is  chiefly  a glorifica- 
tion of  the  feminine  qualities  of  gentleness,  humility,  and 
love.  The  painters  whom  the  religious  feeling  of  Christen 
dom  has  recognised  as  the  most  faithful  exponents  of  Chris- 
tian sentiment  have  always  been  those  who  infused  a large 
measure  of  feminine  beauty  even  into  their  male  characters  ; 
and  we  never,  or  scarcely  ever,  find  that  the  same  artist  has 
been  conspicuously  successful  in  delineating  both  Christian 
and  Pagan  types.  Michael  Angelo,  whose  genius  loved  to 
expatiate  on  the  sublimity  of  strength  and  defiance,  failed 
signally  in  his  representations  of  the  Christian  ideal ; and 
Perugino  was  equally  unsuccessful  when  he  sought  to  pour- 
tray  the  features  of  the  heroes  of  antiquity.1  The  position 
that  was  gradually  assigned  to  the  Virgin  as  the  female  ideal 
in  the  belief  and  the  devotion  of  Christendom,  was  a conse- 
cration or  an  expression  of  the  new  value  that  was  attached 
to  the  feminine  virtues. 

The  general  superiority  of  women  to  men  in  the  strength 
of  their  religious  emotions,  and  their  natural  attraction  to  a 
religion  which  made  personal  attachment  to  its  Founder  its 
central  duty,  and  which  imparted  an  unprecedented  dignity 
and  afforded  an  unprecedented  scope  to  their  characteristic 
virtues,  account  for  the  very  conspicuous  position  that  female 
influence  assumed  in  the  great  work  of  the  conversion  of  the 
Roman  Empire.  In  no  other  important  movement  of  thought 
was  it  so  powerful  or  so  acknowledged.  In  the  ages  of 


1 This  is  -well  illustrated,  on  the 
ono  side,  by  the  most  repulsive  re- 
presentations of  Christ,  by  Michael 
Angelo,  in  the  great  fresco  in  the 
Sistine  Chapel  (so  inferior  to  the 
Christ  of  Orgagna,  at  Pisa,  from 
which  it  was  partly  imitated),  and 
in  marble  in  the  Minerva  Church 


at  Rome ; and,  on  the  other  side, 
by  the  frescoes  of  Perugino,  at 
Perugia,  representing  the  groat 
sages  of  Paganism.  The  figure  of 
Cato,  in  the  latter,  almost  ap- 
proaches, as  well  as  I remember, 
the  typo  of  St.  John. 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


364 


persecution  female  figures  occupy  many  of  the  foremost 
places  in  the  ranks  of  martyrdom,  and  Pagan  and  Christian 
writers  alike  attest  the  alacrity  with  which  women  flocked 
to  the  Church,  and  the  influence  they  exercised  in  its  favour 
over  the  male  members  of  their  families.  The  mothers  of 
St.  Augustine,  St.  Chrysostom,  St.  Basil,  St.  Gregory 
Nazianzen,  and  Theodoret,  had  all  a leading  part  in  the 
conversion  of  their  sons.  St.  Helena,  the  mother  of 
Constantine,  Flacilla,  the  wife  of  Theodosius  the  Great,  St. 
Pulcheria,  the  sister  of  Theodosius  the  Younger,  and  Placidia, 
the  mother  of  Yalentinian  III.,  were  among  the  most 
conspicuous  defenders  of  the  faith.  In  the  heretical  sects  the 
same  zeal  was  manifested,  and  Alius,  Priscillian,  and 
Montanus  were  all  supported  by  troops  of  zealous  female 
devotees.  In  the  career  of  asceticism  women  took  a part 
little  if  at  all  inferior  to  men,  while  in  the  organisation  of 
the  great  work  of  charity  they  were  pre-eminent.  For  no 
other  field  of  active  labour  are  women  so  admirably  suited  as 
for  this  ; and  although  we  may  trace  from  the  earliest  period, 
in  many  creeds  and  ages,  individual  instances  of  their 
influence  in  allaying  the  sufferings  of  the  distressed,1  it  may 


1 In  that  fine  description  of  a 
virtuous  woman  which  is  ascribed 
to  the  mother  of  King  Lemuel,  we 
read : ‘ She  stretcheth  out  her  hand 
to  the  poor ; yea,  she  reacheth 
forth  her  hands  to  the  needy.’ 
(Proverbs  xxxi.  20.)  I have 
already  quoted  from  Xenophon 
the  beautiful  description  of  the 
Greek  wife  tending  her  sick  slaves. 
So,  too,  Euripides  represents  the 
slaves  of  Alcestis  gathering  with 
tears  around  the  bed  of  their 
dying  mistress,  who,  even  then, 
found  some  kind  word  for  each, 
and,  when  she  died,  lamenting  her 
as  their  second  mother.  (Eurip. 
Alccst.)  In  the  servile  war  which 


desolated  Sicily  at  the  time  of  the 
Punic  wars,  we  find  a touching 
trait  of  the  same  kind.  The 
revolt  was  provoked  by  the  cruel- 
ties of  a rich  man,  named  Damo- 
philus,  and  his  wife,  who  were 
massacred  with  circumstances  of 
great  atrocity ; but  the  slaves 
preserved  their  daughter  entirely 
unharmed,  for  she  had  always 
made  it  her  business  to  console 
them  in  their  sorrow,  and  she  hail 
won  the  love  of  all.  (Diodor.  Sic. 
Frag,  xxxiv.)  So,  too,  Marcia, 
the  wife  of  Cato,  used  to  sueklo 
her  young  slaves  from  her  breast. 
(Plut.  Marc.  Cato.)  I may  add 
the  well-known  sentiment  which 


the  rosiTioisr  of  women-. 


365 


lx?  truly  said  that  their  instinct  and  genius  of  charity  had 
never  before  the  dawn  of  Christianity  obtained  full  scope  for 
action.  Fabiola,  Paula,  Melania,  and  a host  of  other  noble 
ladies  devoted  their  time  and  fortimes  mainly  to  founding 
and  extending  vast  institutions  of  charity,  some  of  them  of  a 
kind  before  unknown  in  the  world.  The  Empress  Elacilla 
was  accustomed  to  tend  with  her  own  hands  the  sick  in  the 
hospitals,1  and  a readiness  to  discharge  such  offices  was 
deemed  the  first  duty  of  a Christian  wife.2  From  age  to  age 
the  impulse  thus  communicated  has  been  felt.  There  has 
been  no  period,  however  corrupt,  there  has  been  no  Church, 
however  superstitious,  that  has  not  been  adorned  by  many 
Christian  women  devoting  their  entire  lives  to  assuaging  the 
sufferings  of  men;  and  the  mission  of  charity  thus  instituted 
has  not  been  more  efficacious  in  diminishing  the  sum  of  human 
wretchedness,  than  in  promoting  the  moral  dignity  of  those  by 
whom  it  was  conducted. 

Among  the  Collyridian  heretics,  women  were  admitted  to 
the  priesthood.  Among  the  orthodox,  although  this  honour 
was  not  bestowed  upon  them,  they  received  a religious 
consecration,  and  discharged  some  minor  ecclesiastical  func- 
tions under  the  name  of  deaconesses.3  This  order  may  be 
traced  to  the  Apostolic  period.4  It  consisted  of  elderly 
virgins,  who  were  set  apart  by  a formal  ordination,  and  were 
employed  in  assisting  as  catechists  and  attendants  at  the 
baptism  of  women,  in  visiting  the  sick,  ministering  to  martyrs 


Virgil  puts  in  the  mouth  of  Dido : 
‘ Haud  ignara  mali  miseris  suc- 
currere  disco.’  There  are,  doubt- 
less, many  other  touches  of  the 
same  kind  in  ancient  literature, 
some  of  which  may  occur  to  my 
readers. 

1 Theodoret,  v.  19. 

2 See  the  beautiful  description 
of  the  functions  of  a Christian 
woman  in  the  second  book  of  Ter- 


tullian,  Ad  TJxorem. 

3  See,  upon  the  deaconesses, 
Bingham’s  Christian  Antiquities, 
book  ii.  ch.  22,  and  Ludlow’s 
Woman’s  Work  in  the  Church, 
The  latter  author  argues  elabo- 
rately that  the  ‘widows’  were  a. ft 
the  same  as  the  deaconesses. 

* Phoebe  (Rom.  xvi.  1) 
described  as  a SUkovos. 


3G6 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


in  prison,  preserving  order  in  the  congregations,  and  ac- 
companying and  presenting  women  who  desired  an  interview 
with  the  bishop.  It  would  appear,  from  the  evidence  of 
some  councils,  that  abuses  gradually  crept  into  this  institution, 
and  tbe  deaconesses  at  last  faded  into  simple  nuns,  but  they 
were  still  in  existence  in  the  East  in  the  twelfth  century. 
Besides  these,  widows,  when  they  had  been  but  once  married, 
were  treated  with  peculiar  honour,  and  were  made  the 
special  recipients  of  the  charity  of  the  Church.  Women 
advanced  in  years,  who,  either  from  their  single  life  or  from 
bereavement,  have  been  left  without  any  male  protector  in 
the  world,  have  always  been  peculiarly  deserving  of  com- 
miseration. With  less  strength,  and  commonly  with  less 
means,  and  less  knowledge  of  the  world  than  men,  they  are 
liable  to  contract  certain  peculiarities  of  mind  and  manner  to 
which  an  excessive  amount  of  ridicule  has  been  attached,  and 
age  in  most  cases  furnishes  them  with  very  little  to 
compensate  for  the  charms  of  which  it  has  deprived  them. 
The  weight  and  dignity  of  matured  wisdom,  which  make 
the  old  age  of  one  sex  so  venerable,  are  more  rarely  found 
in  that  of  the  other,  and  even  physical  beauty  is  more 
frequently  the  characteristic  of  an  old  man  than  of  an  old 
woman.  The  Church  laboured  steadily  to  cast  a halo  of 
reverence  around  this  period  of  woman’s  life,  and  its  religious 
exercises  have  done  very  much  to  console  and  to  occupy  it. 

In  accordance  with  these  ideas,  the  Christian  legislators 
contributed  largely  to  improve  the  legal  position  of  widows  in 
respect  to  property,1  and  Justinian  gave  mothers  theguardian- 


1 A very  able  wr  ter,  who  takes  surviving  their  husbands,  winning, 
on  the  whole  an  unfavourable  perhaps,  one  of  the  most  arduous 
view  of  the  influence  of  Chris-  of  its  triumphs  when,  after  exact- 
tianity  on  legislation,  says:  ‘The  ing  for  two  or  three  centuries  an 
provision  for  the  widow  was  express  promise  from  the  husband 
attributable  to  the  exertions  of  the  at  nrfrruige  to  endow  his  wife, 
Church,  which  never  relaxed  its  it  at  last  succeeded  in  engrafting 
solicitude  for  the  interests  of  wives  the  principle  of  dower  on  the 


THE  POSITION  OF  WOMEN. 


367 


ship  of  their  children,  destroying  the  Pagan  rule  that 
guardianship  could  only  be  legally  exercised  by  men.1  The 
usual  subservience  of  the  sex  to  ecclesiastical  influence,  the 
numerous  instances  of  rich  widows  devoting  their  for- 
tunes, and  mothers  their  sons,  to  the  Church,  had  no 
doubt  some  influence  in  securing  the  advocacy  of  the  clergy ; 
hut  these  measures  had  a manifest  importance  in  elevating 
the  position  of  women  who  have  had,  in  Christian  lands,  a 
great,  though  not,  I think,  altogether  a beneficial  influence, 
in  the  early  education  of  their  sons. 

Independently  of  all  legal  enactments,  the  simple  chango 
of  the  ideal  type  by  bringing  specially  feminine  virtues  into 
the  forefront  was  sufficient  to  elevate  and  ennoble  the  sex. 
The  commanding  position  of  the  mediaeval  abbesses,  the  great 
number  of  female  saints,  and  especially  the  reverence  bestowed 
upon  the  Virgin,  had  a similar  effect.  It  is  remarkable  that 
the  Jews,  who,  of  the  three  great  nations  of  antiquity, 
certainly  produced  in  history  and  poetry  the  smallest  number 
of  illustrious  women,  should  have  furnished  the  world  with 
its  supreme  female  ideal,  and  it  is  also  a striking  illustration 
of  the  qualities  which  prove  most  attractive  in  woman  that 
one  of  whom  we  know  nothing  except  her  gentleness  and 
her  sorrow  should  have  exercised  a magnetic  power  upon 
the  world  incomparably  greater  than  was  exercised  by  the 
most  majestic  female  patriots  of  Paganism.  Whatever  may 
be  thought  of  its  theological  propriety,  there  can  be  little 
doubt  that  the  Catholic  reverence  for  the  Virgin  has  done 
much  to  elevate  and  purify  the  ideal  of  woman,  and  to  soften 
the  manners  of  men.  It  has  had  an  influence  which  the 
worship  of  the  Pagan  goddesses  could  never  possess,  for  these 
had  been  almost  destitute  of  moral  beauty,  and  especially  of 
that  kind  of  moral  beauty  which  is  peculiarly  feminine. 

customary  law  of  all  Western  1 See  Troplong,  Influence  dm 
Europe.’ — Maine’s  Ancient  Law,  p.  Christianismc  stir  le  Droit,  pp, 
224.  308-310. 


368 


IITSTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


It  supplied  in  a great  measure  the  redeeming  and  ennobling 
element  in  that  strange  amalgam  of  religious,  licentious,  and 
military  feeling  which  was  formed  around  women  in  the  age 
of  chivalry,  and  which  no  succeeding  change  of  habit  or  belief 
has  wholly  destroyed. 

It  can  hardly,  I think,  be  questioned  that  in  the  great 
religious  convulsions  of  the  sixteenth  century  the  feminine 
type  followed  Catholicism,  while  Protestantism  inclined  more 
to  the  masculine  type.  Catholicism  alone  retained  the 
Virgin  worship,  which  at  once  reflected  and  sustained  the 
first.  The  skill  with  wliich  it  acts  upon  the  emotions  by 
music,  and  painting,  and  solemn  architecture,  and  imposing 
pageantry,  its  tendency  to  appeal  to  the  imagination  rather 
than  to  the  reason,  and  to  foster  modes  of  feeling  rather  than 
modes  of  thought,  its  assertion  of  absolute  and  infallible 
certainty,  above  all,  the  manner  in  which  it  teaches  its 
votary  to  throw  himself  perpetually  on  authority,  all  tended 
in  the  same  direction.  It  is  the  part  of  a woman  to  lean,  it 
is  the  part  of  a man  to  stand.  A religion  which  prescribes 
to  the  distracted  mind  unreasoning  faith  in  an  infallible 
Church,  and  to  the  troubled  conscience  an  implicit  trust  in 
an  absolving  priesthood,  has  ever  had  an  especial  attraction 
to  a feminine  mind.  A religion  which  recognises  no  authority 
between  man  and  his  Creator,  which  asserts  at  once  the 
dignity  and  the  duty  of  private  judgment,  and  which,  while 
deepening  immeasurably  the  sense  of  individual  responsibility, 
denudes  religion  of  meretricious  ornaments,  and  of  most 
aesthetic  aids,  is  pre-eminently  a religion  of  men.  Puritanism 
is  the  most  masculine  form  that  Christianity  has  yet  assumed. 
Its  most  illustrious  teachers  differed  from  the  Catholic 
saints  as  much  in  the  moral  type  they  displayed  as  in  the 
system  of  doctrines  they  held.  Catholicism  commonly  softens, 
while  Protestantism  strengthens,  the  character;  but  the  softness 
of  the  first  often  degenerates  into  weakness,  and  the  strength 
of  the  second  into  hardness.  Sincerely  Catholic  nations  are 


THE  POSITION  OE  WOMEN. 


309 


distinguished  for  their  reverence,  for  their  habitual  and  vivid 
perceptions  of  religious  things,  for  the  warmth  of  their 
emotions,  for  a certain  amiability  of  disposition,  and  a certain 
natural  courtesy  and  refinement  of  manner  that  are  in- 
expressibly winning.  Sincerely  Protestant  nations  are  dis- 
tinguished for  their  love  of  truth,  for  their  firm  sense  of  duty, 
for  the  strength  and  the  dignity  of  their  character.  Loyalty 
and  humility,  which  are  especially  feminine,  flourish  chiefly 
in  the  first;  liberty  and  self-assertion  in  the  second.  The 
first  are  most  prone  to  superstition,  and  the  second  to 
fanaticism.  Protestantism,  by  purifying  and  dignifying 
marnage,  conferred  a great  benefit  upon  women ; but  it  must 
be  owned  that  neither  in  its  ideal  type,  nor  in  the  general 
tenor  of  its  doctrines  or  devotions,  is  it  as  congenial  to  their 
natiu'e  as  the  religion  it  superseded. 

Its  complete  suppression  of  the  conventual  system  was 
also,  I think,  very  far  from  a benefit  to  women  or  to  the 
world.  It  would  be  impossible  to  conceive  any  institution 
more  needed  than  one  which  would  furnish  a shelter  for  the 
many  women  who,  from  poverty,  or  domestic  unhappiness, 
or  other  causes,  find  themselves  cast  alone  and  unprotected 
into  the  battle  of  life,  which  would  secure  them  from  the 
temptations  to  gross  vice,  and  from  the  extremities  of  suffer- 
ing, and  would  convert  them  into  agents  of  active,  organised, 
and  intelligent  charity.  Such  an  institution  would  be  almost 
free  from  the  objections  that  may  justly  be  urged  against 
monasteries,  which  withdraw  strong  men  from  manual  labour, 
and  it  would  largely  mitigate  the  difficulty  of  providing  labour 
and  means  of  livelihood  for  sing’e  women,  which  is  one  of 
the  most  pressing,  in  our  own  day  one  of  the  most  appalling, 
of  social  problems.  Most  unhappily  for  mankind,  this  noble 
conception  was  from  the  first  perverted.  Institutions  that 
wight  have  had  an  incalculable  philanthropic  value  weie 
based  upon  the  principle  of  asceticism,  which  makes  the 
sacrifice,  not  the  promotion,  of  earthly  happiness  its  aim,  ar.d 


370  1IISTOET  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 

binding  vows  produced  much  misery  and  not  a little  vice. 
The  convent  became  the  perpetual  prison  of  the  daughter 
whom  a father  was  disinclined  to  endow,  or  of  young  girls 
who,  under  the  impulse  of  a transient  enthusiasm,  or  of  a 
transient  sorrow,  took  a step  w hich  they  never  could  retrace, 
and  useless  penances  and  contemptible  superstitions  wasted 
the  energies  that  might  have  been  most  beneficially  employed. 
Still  it  is  very  doubtful  whether,  even  in  the  most  degraded 
period,  the  convents  did  not  prevent  more  misery  than  they 
inflicted,  and  in  the  Sisters  of  Charity  the  religious  orders  of 
Catholicism  have  produced  one  of  the  most  perfect  of  all  the 
types  of  womanhood.  There  is,  as  I conceive,  no  fact  in 
modern  history  more  deeply  to  be  deplored  than  that  the 
Reformers,  who  in  matters  of  doctrinal  innovations  were 
often  so  timid,  should  have  levelled  to  the  dust,  instead  of 
attempting  to  regenerate,  the  whole  conventual  system  of 
Catholicism. 

The  course  of  these  observations  has  led  me  to  transgress 
the  limits  assigned  to  this  history.  It  has  been,  however, 
ray  object  through  this  entire  work  to  exhibit  not  only  the 
nature  but  also  the  significance  of  the  moral  facts  I have 
recorded,  by  showing  how  they  have  affected  the  subsequent 
changes  of  society.  I will  conclude  this  chapter,  and  this 
work,  by  observing  that  of  all  the  departments  of  ethics 
tbe  questions  concerning  the  relations  of  the  sexes  and  the 
] iroper  position  of  women  are  those  upon  the  future  of  which 
there  rests  the  greatest  uncertainty.  History  tells  us  that, 
as  civilisation  advances,  the  charity  of  men  becomes  at  once 
warmer  and  more  expansive,  their  habitual  conduct  both 
more  gentle  and  more  temperate,  and  their  love  of  truth 
more  sincere  ; but  it  also  warns  us  that  in  periods  of  gicat 
intellectual  enlightenment,  and  of  great  social  refinement, 
the  relations  of  the  sexes  have  often  been  most  anarchical. 
It  is  impossible  to  deny  that  the  form  which  these  relations 
at  present  assume  has  been  very  largely  affected  by  special 


THE  POSITION  OE  WOMEN. 


371 


religious  teaching,  which,  for  good  or  for  ill,  is  rapidly 
waning  in  the  sphere  of  government,  and  also,  that  certain 
recent  revolutions  in  economical  opinion  and  industrial 
enterprise  have  a most  profound  bearing  upon  the  subject. 
The  belief  that  a rapid  increase  of  population  is  always 
enn'nently  beneficial,  which  was  long  accepted  as  an  axiom 
by  both  statesmen  and  moralists,  and  was  made  the  basis  of 
a large  part  of  the  legislation  of  the  first  and  of  the  decisions 
of  the  second,  has  now  been  replaced  by  the  directly  opposite 
doctrine,  that  the  very  highest  interest  of  society  is  not  to 
stimulate  but  to  restrain  multiplication,  diminishing  the 
number  of  marriages  and  of  children.  In  consequence  of 
this  belief,  and  of  the  many  factitious  wants  that  accompany 
a-  luxurious  civilisation,  a very  large  and  increasing  propor- 
tion of  women  are  left  to  make  their  way  in  life  without  any 
male  protector,  and  the  difficulties  they  have  to  encounter 
through  physical  weakness  have  been  most  unnaturally  and 
most  fearfully  aggravated  by  laws  and  customs  which,  rest- 
ing on  the  old  assumption  that  every  woman  should  be  a 
wife,  habitually  deprive  them  of  the  pecuniary  and  educational 
advantages  of  men,  exclude  them  absolutely  from  very  many 
of  the  employments  in  which  they  might  earn  a subsistence, 
encumber  their  course  in  others  by  a heartless  ridicule  or  by 
a steady  disapprobation,  and  consign,  in  consequence,  many 
thousands  to  the  most  extreme  and  agonising  poverty,  and 
perhaps  a still  larger  number  to  the  paths  of  vice.  At  the 
same  time  a momentous  revolution,  the  effects  of  which  can 
as  yet  be  but  imperfectly  descried,  has  taken  place  in  the 
chief  spheres  of  female  industry  that  remain.  The  progress 
of  machinery  has  destroyed  its  domestic  character.  The 
distaff  has  fallen  from  the  hand.  The  needle  is  being  rapidlv 
superseded,  and  the  work  which,  from  the  days  of  Homer  to 
the  present  century,  was  accomplished  in  the  centre  of  the 
family,  has  been  transferred  to  the  crowded  manufactory.1 

1 The  results  of  this  change  have  been  treated  by  Miss  Parkas 


372 


HISTORY  OF  EUROPEAN  MORALS. 


The  probable  consequences  of  these  things  are  among  the 
most  important  questions  that  can  occupy  the  moralist  or 
the  philanthropist,  but  they  do  not  fall  within  the  province 
of  the  historian.  That  the  pursuits  and  education  of  women 
will  be  considerably  altered,  that  these  alterations  will  bring 
with  them  some  modifications  of  the  type  of  character,  and 
that  the  prevailing  moral  notions  concerning  the  relations  of 
the  sexes  will  be  subjected  in  many  quarters  to  a severe  and 
hostile  criticism,  may  safely  be  predicted.  Many  wild 
theories  will  doubtless  be  propounded.  Some  real  ethicai 
changes  may  perhaps  be  effected,  but  these,  if  I mistake  not, 
can  only  be  within  definite  and  narrow  limits.  He  who 
will  seriously  reflect  upon  our  clear  perceptions  of  the 
difference  between  purity  and  impurity,  upon  the  laws  that 
govern  our  affections,  and  upon  the  interests  of  the  children 
who  are  born,  may  easily  convince  himself  that  in  this,  as  in 
all  other  spheres,  there  are  certain  eternal  moral  landmarks 
which  never  can  be  removed. 


iu  her  truly  admirable  little  book  better  than  by  any  other  write? 
called  Essays  un  Woman's  Work,  with  whom  I am  acquainted. 


INDEX. 


ABO 

AMP 

i BORTION,  diversities  ot  moral 
/a  judgment  respecting,  i.  92. 
History  of  the  practice  of,  ii.  20, 
24 

Abraham  the  Hermit,  St.,  ii.  110 
Acacius,  his  ransom  of  Persian 
slaves,  ii.  72 

Adultery,  laws  concerning,  ii.  313 
iEschylus,  his  views  of  human 
nature,  i.  196.  His  violation  of 
dramatic  probabilities,  229 
Affections,  the,  all  forms  of  self- 
love,  according  to  some  Utilita- 
rians, i.  9.  Subjugation  of  the,  to 
the  reason,  taught  by  the  Stoics, 
&c.,  177,  187-  Considered  by  the 
Stoics  as  a disease,  188.  Evil 
consequences  of  their  suppression, 
191 

Africa,  sacrifices  of  children  to 
Saturn  in,  ii.  31.  Effect  of  the 
conquest  of  Genseric  of,  82 
Agapse,  or  love  feasts,  of  the  Christ- 
ians, how  regarded  by  the  pagans, 
i,  415  ; ii.  79.  Excesses  of  the, 
and  their  suppression,  150 
Agnes,  St.,  legend  of,  ii.  319 
Agricultural  pursuits,  history  of 
the  decline  of,  in  Italy,  i.  266. 
Efforts  to  relieve  the  agriculturists, 
267 

Albigenses,  their  slow  suicides,  ii. 
49 

56 

Alexander  tne  Great : effect  of  hi? 
career  on  Greek  cosmopolitanism, 

i.  229 

Alexandria,  foundation  of,  i.  230. 
Effect  of  the  increasing  impor- 
tance of,  on  Roman  thought,  319. 
The  Decian  persecution  at,  451. 
Excesses  of  the  Christian  sects 
of,  ii.  196,  197,  note 
Alexis,  St.,  his  legend,  ii.  322 
Alimentus,  Cincius,  his  work  written 
in  Greek,  i.  230 

Almsgiving,  effects  of  indiscriminate, 

ii.  90,  91 

Amafanius,  wrote  the  first  Latin 
work  on  philosophy,  i.  175,  note 
Ambrose,  St.,  his  miraculous  dream, 

i.  379.  His  dissection  of  the 
pagan  theory  of  the  decline  of  the 
Roman  empire,  409.  His  ransom 
of  Italians  from  the  Goths,  ii.  72. 
His  commendation  of  disobedience 
to  parents.  132 

Ameri -an  Indians,  suicide  of  the 

ii.  54 

Ammon,  St.,  his  refusal  to  wash 
himself,  ii.  110.  Deserts  his  wife, 
322 

Amour,  William  de  St.,  his  denun- 
ciation of  the  mendicant  orders 
ii.  96 

Amphitheatres,  history  and  remain* 
of  Roman,  i.  273 

374 


INDEX. 


ANA 

Anaxagoras,  on  the  death  of  his  son, 

i.  191.  On  his  true  country,  201 
Anchorites.  See  Ascetics  ; Monasti- 

cism 

Angelo,  Michael,  in  what  ho  failed, 

ii.  363 

Anglo-Saxon  nations,  their  virtues 
and  vices,  i.  153 

Animals,  lower,  Egyptian  worship 
of,  i.  166,  note.  Humanity  to 
animals  probably  first  advocated 
by  Plutarch,  244.  Animals  em- 
ployed in  the  arena  at  Rome,  280. 
Instances  of  kindness  to,  288,  307- 
Legends  of  the  connection  of  the 
saints  and  the  animal  world,  ii. 

161.  Pagan  legends  of  the  in- 
telligence of  animals,  161,  162. 
Legislative  protection  of  them, 

162.  Views  as  to  the  souls  of 
animals,  162.  Moral  duty  of 
kindness  to  animals  taught  by 
pagans,  166.  Legends  in  the 
lives  of  the  saints  in  connection 
with  animals,  168.  Progress  in 
modern  times  of  humanity  to 
animals,  172 

Antigonus  of  Socho,  his  doctrine  of 
virtue,  i.  183,  note 
Antioch,  charities  of,  ii.  80.  Its 
extreme  vice  and  asceticism,  153 
Antisthenes,  his  scepticism,  i.  162 
Antoninus,  the  philosopher,  his  pre- 
diction, i.  427 

Antoninus  the  Pious,  his  death, 

i.  207.  His  leniency  towards  the 
Christians,  438, 439.  Forgedletter 
of,  439,  note.  His  charity,  ii.  77 

Antony,  St.,  his  flight  into  the  desert, 

ii.  103.  His  mode  of  life,  110. 
His  dislike  to  knowledge,  115. 
Legend  of  his  visit  to  Paul  the 
hermit,  157,  158 

Aphrodite,  the  celestial  and  earthly, 
i.  106 

Apollonius  of  Tjmna,  his  conversa- 
tion with  an  Egyptian  priest  re- 
specting the  Greek  and  Egyptian 


ASC 

modes  ot  worshipping  the  deity 
i.  166,  note.  Miracles  attributed 
to  him,  372.  His  humanity  *o 
animals,  ii.  165 

Apollonius,  the  merchant,  his  d is 
pensary  for  monks,  ii.  81 
Apulei  us, his  condemnation  of  suicid*., 
i.  213.  His-  disquisition  on  the 
doctrine  of  dmmons,  323,  Practi- 
cal form  of  his  philosophy,  329. 
Miracles  attributed  to  him,  372. 
His  defence  of  tooth-powdei,  ii. 
148 

Archytas  of  Tarentum,  his  speech  on 
the  evils  of  sensuality,  i.  200,  note 
Argos,  story  of  the  sons  of  the 
priestess  of  Juno  at,  i.  206 
Arians,  their  charges  against  the 
Catholics,  i.  418,  note 
Aristides,  his  gentleness,  i.  228 
Aristotle,  his  admission  of  the  prac- 
tice of  abortion,  i.  92  Emphasis 
with  which  he  dwelt  upon  the 
utility  of  virtue,  124.  Ilis  pa- 
triotism, 200.  His  condemnation 
of  suicide,  212.  His  opinions  as 
to  the  duties  of  Greeks  to  bar- 
barians, 229 
Arius,  death  of,  ii.  196 
Arnobius,  on  the  miracles  of  Christ, 

i.  375 

Arrian,  his  humanity  to  animals, 

ii.  164 

Arsenius,  St.,  his  penances,  ii.  107, 
114,  note.  His  anxiety  to  avoid 
distractions,  125,  note 
Ascetics,  their  estimate  of  the 
dreadful  nature  of  sin,  i.  1 13. 
Decline  of  asceticism  and  evan- 
escence of  the  moral  notions  of 
which  it  was  the  expression,  113. 
Condition  of  society  to  which  it 
belongs,  130.  Decline  of  the 
ascetic  and  saintly  qualities  with 
civilisation,  130.  Causes  of  the 
ascetic  movement,  ii.  102.  Its 
rapid  extension,  103-105.  Pe- 
nances attributed  to  the  saints  oi 


INDEX. 


375 


ASM 

the  desert,  107-100  Miseries 
and  joys  of  the  hermit  life,  113 
et  scq.  Dislike  of  the  monks  to 
knowledge,  115.  Their  hallucina- 
tions, 116.  Delations  of  female 
devotees  with  the  anchorites,  120. 
Ways  in  which  the  ascetic  life 
affected  both  the  ideal  type  and 
realised  condition  of  morals,  122, 
et  seq.  Extreme  animosity  of 
the  ascetics  to  everything  pagan, 
136,  137.  Decline  of  the  civic 
virtues  caused  by  asceticism,  139. 
Moral  effects  of  asceticism  on  self- 
sacrifice,  154,  155.  Moral  beauty 
of  some  of  the  legends  of  the  as- 
cetics, 156.  Legends  of  the  con- 
nection between  the  saints  and 
the  animal  world,  161.  Practical 
form  of  asceticism  in  the  West, 
177-  Influence  of  asceticism  on 
chastity,  319,  320.  On  marriage, 
320.  On  the  estimate  of  women, 
337 

Asella,  story  of  her  asceticism,  ii. 
133 

Asia  Minor,  destruction  of  the 
churches  of,  ii.  14 

Aspasia,  the  Athenian  courtesan,  ii. 
293 

Asses,  feast  of,  ii.  173 
Association,  Hartley's  doctrine  of, 
i.  22.  Partly  anticipated  by 
Hutcheson  and  Gay,  23.  Illus- 
trations of  the  system  of  associa- 
tion, 26-30.  The  theory,  how  far 
selfish,  30.  The  essential  and 
characteristic  feature  of  conscience 
wholly  unaccounted  for  by  the 
association  of  ideas,  66 
Astrology,  belief  in,  rapidly  gaining 
ground  in  the  time  of  the  cider 
Pliny,  i.  171,  and  note 
Atticus,  his  suicide,  i.  215,  and  note 
Augustine.  St.,  on  original  sin,  i.  209. 
His  belief  in  contemporary  mira- 
cles, 378.  On  the  decline  of  the 
Homan  empire  410.  His  con- 


Avr 

demnation  of  viririn  suicides,  ii, 
47 

Augustus,  his  solemn  degradation  of 
the  statue  of  Neptune,  i.  1 69 
His  mode  of  discouraging  celibacy, 
232.  Miraculous  stories  related 
of  him,  258.  His  superstition* 
376.  Advice  of  Maecenas  to  him, 
399.  His  consideration  for  the 
religious  customs  of  the  Jews, 
406 

Aulus  Gellius,  his  account  of  the 
rhetoricians,  i.  313.  Compared 
with  Helvetius,  313 

Aurelius,  Marcus,  on  a future  stale, 
i.  184.  On  posthumous  fame,  186. 
Denied  that  all  vices  are  the  same, 
192,  note.  On  the  sacred  spirit 
dwelling  in  man,  198.  His  sub- 
missive gratitude,  199.  His  prac- 
tical application  of  the  precepts 
of  the  Stoics,  202.  His  wavering 
view's  as  to  suicide,  213.  His 
charity  to  the  human  race,  241. 
Mild  and  more  religious  spirit  of 
his  stoicism,  245.  His  constant 
practice  of  self-examination,  249. 
His  life  and  character,  249-255. 
Compared  and  contrasted  with 
Plutarch,  253.  His  discourage- 
ment of  the  games  of  the  arena, 
286.  His  humanity,  308.  His 
disbelief  of  exorcism,  384.  His 
law  against  religious  terrorism, 
422.  His  persecution  of  the 
Christians,  439,  440.  His  bene- 
volence, ii.  77.  His  view  of  war, 
258 

Austin,  Mr.,  his  view  of  the  founda- 
tion of  the  moral  law,  i.  17.  note. 
His  advocacy  of  the  unselfish  view 
of  the  love  we  ought  to  bear  to 
God,  18,  note.'  Character  of  his 
‘ Lectures  on  Jurisprudence,’  22, 
note 

Avarice,  association  of  ideas  to  tha 
passion  of,  i.  26 

Avitus,  St.,  legend  of,  ii.  159 


37G 


INDEX 


BAB 

CABl’LAS,  fet.,  miracle.s  perform- 
ed by  his  bones,  i.  382,  and 
note.  Ilis  death,  ii.  9 
Bacchus,  suppression  of  the  rites  of, 
at  Home,  i.  401 

Bacon,  Lord,  great  movement  of 
modern  thought  caused  by,  i.  125. 
1 Lis  objection  to  the  Stoics’  view 
of  death,  202 

Bacon,  Hoger,  his  life  and  works, 
ii.  210 

Bain,  Mr.,  on  pleasure,  i.  12,  note. 
Ilis  definition  of  conscience,  29, 

note 

Balbus,  Cornelius,  his  elevation  to 
tlie  consulate,  i.  232 
Ballus  on  the  exorcists,  i.  381,  note 
Baptism,  Augustinian  doctrine  of,  i. 
96 

Barbarians,  causes  of  the  conversion 
of  the,  i.  410 

Basil,  St.,  his  hospital,  ii.  80.  His 
labours  for  monachism,  106 
Bassus,  Ventidius,  his  elevation  to 
the  consulate,  i.  232 
Bathilda,  Queen,  her  charity,  ii.  245 
Bear-gardens  in  England,  ii.  lib, note 
Beauty,  analogies  between  virtue 
and,  i.  77.  Their  difference,  79. 
Diversities  existing  in  our  judg- 
ments of  virtue  and  beauty,  79. 
Causes  of  these  diversities,  79. 
Virtues  to  which  we  can,  and  to 
which  we  cannot,  apply  the  term 
beautiful,  82,  83.  Pleasure  de- 
rived from  beauty  compared  with 
that  from  the  grotesque,  or  eccen- 
tric, 85.  The  prevailing  cast  of 
female  beauty  in  the  north,  con- 
trasted with  the  southern  type, 
1 14,  145,  152.  Admiration  of 
the  Greeks  for  beauty,  ii.  292 
Bees,  regarded  by  the  ancients  as 
emblems  or  models  of  chastity,  i. 
108,  note 

Beggars,  causes  of  vast  numbers  of, 
ii.  94.  Old  English  laws  for  the 
suppression  of  mendicancy,  96. 


IHjC 

Enactments  against  them  in  vari 
ous  parts  of  Europe,  98 
Benedict,  St.,  his  system,  183 
Benefices,  military  use  of,  ii.  270 
Benevolence;  Hutcheson’s  theory 
that  all  virtue  is  resolved  into 
benevolence,  i.  4.  Discussions  in 
England,  in  the  sixteenth  and 
seventeenth  centuries,  as  to  the 
existence  of,  20.  Various  views  of 
t lie  source  from  which  it  springs, 
22.  Association  of  ideas  pro- 
ducing the  feeling  of,  26.  Hart- 
ley on  benevolence  quoted,  27, 
note.  Impossibility  of  benevo- 
lence becoming  a pleasure  if  prac- 
tised only  with  a view  to  that 
end,  37.  Application  to  benevo- 
lence of  the  theory,  that  the  moral 
unity  of  different  ages  is  a unity 
not  of  standard  but  of  tendency, 
100.  Influenced  by  our  imagina- 
tions, 132,  133.  Imperfectly  re- 
cognised by  the  Stoics,  188,  192 
Bentliam,  Jeremy,  on  the  motives  of 
human  actions,  i.  8,  note.  On 
the  pleasures  and  pains  of  piety 
quoted,  9,  note.  On  charity,  10, 
note.  On  vice,  13,  note.  On  the 
sanctions  of  morality,  19,  and 
note,  21.  Throws  benevolence  as 
much  as  possible  into  the  back- 
ground, 21.  Makes  no  use  of  the 
doctrine  of  association,  25,  note. 
His  definition  of  conscience,  29, 
note.  On  interest  and  disinter- 
estedness, 32,  note.  On  the  value 
and  purity  of  a pleasure,  90,  note 
Besarion,  St.,  his  penances,  ii.  108 
Biography,  relative  importance  of, 
among  Christians  and  Pagans,  i, 
174 

Blandina,  martyrdom  of,  i.  4 12 
Blesilla,  story  of  her  slow  suicide, 
ii.  48 

Elondel,  his  denunciation  of  the 
forgeries  of  the  Sibylline  books, 
i.  377 


INDEX. 


377 


BOA 

Boadicea,  her  suicide,  ii.  53,  vote 

Solingbroke’s  ‘Reflections  on  Exile,’ 

i.  201,  note 

Bona  Den,  story  and  -worship  of,  i. 
9t,  note.  Popularity  of  her 
worship  among  the  Romans,  106, 
3S6 

B.niface,  St.,  his  missionary  labours, 

ii.  '247 

Bi/iinct,  his  philosophy,  i.  71 

Bossuet,  on  the  nature  of  the  love 
we  should  bear  to  God,  i.  18, 
note 

Brephotrophia,  in  the  early  church, 
ii.  32 

Brotherhood,  effect  of  Christianity 
in  promoting,  ii.  61 

Brown,  on  the  moti  re  for  the  practice 
of  virtue,  i.  8,  note.  On  theologi- 
cal Utilitarianism,  16,  note 

Brunehaut,  Queen,  her  crimes,  ap- 
proved of  by  the  Pope,  ii.  236, 
237.  Her  end,  237 

Brutus,  his  extortionate  usury,  i. 
193,  194 

Buckle,  Thomas,  his  remarks  on 
morals,  i.  74,  note.  On  the  differ- 
ence between  mental  and  physical 
pleasures,  90,  note.  His  views  of 
the  comparative  influence  of  in- 
tellectual and  moral  agencies  in 
civilisation,  103,  vote 

Bull- baiting  in  England,  ii.  175, 
note 

Bulgarians,  their  conversion  to  Chris- 
tianity, ii.  180 

Butler,  Bishop,  maintains  the  reality 
of  the  existence  of  benevolence  in 
our  nature,  i.  20,  21,  note.  On 
the  pleasure  derived  from  virtue, 
32,  note.  His  analysis  of  moral 
judgments,  76.  His  definition  of 
conscience,  83 

Byzantine  Empire,  general  sketch  of 
I he  moral  condition  of  the,  ii.  13, 
1 1.  Moral  condition  of  the  em- 
pire during  the  Christian  period, 

147 


CAT 

OiEDMON,  story  ot  the  origin  of 
his  ‘Creation  of  the  World,’  ii. 
204 

Caesar,  Julius,  denies  the  immor- 
tality of  the  soul,  i.  182.  11  is 

condemnation  of  suicide,  213. 
His  colonial  policy,  233.  His 
multiplication  of  glad i ate  rial 
shows,  273 

Caligula,  his  intoxication  with  his 
imperial  diguity,  i.  259.  His 
superstitions  fears,  367 
Calvinists : tendency  of  the  Supra- 
lapsarian  to  deny  the  existence  of 
a moral  sense,  i.  17,  note 
Camma,  conjugal  fidelity  of,  ii.  3 11 
Capital  punishment,  aversion  to,  ii. 
39 

Carlyle,  Thomas,  on  self-sacrifice,  i. 
57,  note.  The  influence  of  con- 
science on  the  happiness  of  men, 
62 

Carneades,  his  expulsion  from  Home 
proposed  by  Cato,  :.  C3C 
Carpocrates,  licentiousness  of  the 
followers  of,  i.  417 
Carthage,  effect  of  the  destruction  of, 
on  the  decadence  of  Rome,  i.  169. 
The  Decian  persecution  at,  452 
Carthaginians,  the,  amongst  the 
most  prominent  of  Latin  writers, 
i.  235 

Cassius,  the  tyrannicide,  his  suicide, 
i.  215 

Castellio,  his  exposure  of  the  for- 
geries of  the  Sibylline  books,  i. 
377 

Catacombs,  the,  i.  453,  455 
Catholicism,  Roman,  the  system  of 
education  adopted  by,  contrasted 
with  that  of  the  English  public 
schools,  i.  114.  Conflict  of  the 
priests  with  political  economists 
on  the  subject  of  early  marriages, 
114,  115.  The  teaching  of,  on 
many  points  the  extreme  anti- 
thesis of  that  of  the  pagan  philo- 
sophers, 208.  Its  view  of  death. 


378 


INDEX. 


CAT 

208,  210.  Little  done  by  it  for 
humanity  to  animals,  ii.  173,  177, 
188.  Influence  on  despotism,  186. 
Its  total  destruction  of  religious 
liberty,  191-199.  Causes  of  the 
indifference  to  truth  manifested  in 
its  literature,  241.  Protestantism 
contrasted  with  it,  368 
Cato,  his  refusal  to  consult  the  ora- 
cles, i.  165,  note.  His  stoicism, 
185.  His  inhumanity  to  his 
slaves,  193.  His  study  of  the 
‘Phaedon’  the  night  he  committed 
suicide,  212.  His  opposition  to 
Greek  philosophy,  231.  His  view 
of  pre-nuptial  chastity,  ii.  314 
Cattle  plague,  theological  notions 
respecting  the,  i.  356 
Catullus,  on  the  death  of  a sparrow, 
ii.  165,  note 

Cautinus,  Bishop,  his  drunkenness, 
ii.  236 

Celibacy  among  the  ancients,  i.  106. 
The  Catholic  monastic  system, 
107.  How  discouraged  by  Au- 
gustus, 232.  Celibacy  the  primal 
virtue  of  the  Christians  of  the 
fourth  and  fifth  centuries,  ii.  122. 
Effect  of  this  upon  moral  teach- 
ing, 122,  123.  History  of  tho 
celibacy  of  the  clergy,  328.  336 
Celsus  calls  the  Christians  Sibyl- 
lists,  i.  376.  And  jugglers, 
384 

Celts,  Spanish,  their  worship  of 
death,  i.  206,  207-  Causes  of 
their  passion  for  suicide,  207,' 
note.  Their  lamentations  on  the 
birth  of  men,  207,  note 
Censors,  Homan,  minute  supervision 
of  tho,  i.  168 

Character,  influence  of,  on  opinion, 
i.  172.  Governed  in  a great  mea- 
sure by  national  circumstances, 

172 

Chariot  races,  passion  for,  at  Con- 
stantinople, ii.  37 


CHI 

Charity,  a form  of  self-love,  accord- 
ing to  the  Utilitarians,  i.  9,  and 
note.  Impossibility  of  charity 
becoming  a pleasure  if  practised 
only  with  a view  to  that  end,  36. 
Charity  of  the  Stoics,  191.  Cice- 
ro’s emphatic  assertion  of  the 
duty,  240.  Exertions  of  the 
Christians  in  the  cause  of  charity, 

11.  75,  79.  Inadequate  place  given 
to  this  movement  in  history,  84, 
85.  Christian  charity,  in  what  it 
consists,  73.  Laws  of  the  Homans, 
73.  Pagan  examples  of  charity, 
78.  Noble  enthusiasm  of  the 
Christians  in  the  cause  of  charity, 
78,  79.  Charity  enjoined  as  a 
matter  of  justice,  81.  Theological 
notions  of  charity,  85,  90,  91. 
Evils  of  Catholic  charity,  93-94. 
Legends  respecting  tho  virtue, 
245,  and  note 

Charlemagne,  his  law  respecting 
Sunday,  ii.  245.  Eascination  ex- 
crete''.;1 'y  him  over  the  popular 
imagination,  271,  272.  His  poly- 
gamy, 343 

Charles  V.,  the  Emperor,  his  law 
against  beggars,  ii.  97 

Charles  Martel,  his  defeat  of  the 
Mahommedans,  at  Poictieis,  ii. 
273 

Charondas,  law  of,  on  second  mar- 
riages, ii.  325,  note 

Chastity,  in  Utilitarian  systems,  i. 

12,  49.  Sketch  of  the  history  of, 
103-107,  The  Catholic  monastic 
system  107.  Modern  judgments 
of,  ii.  282,  283.  Cato's  views, 
314.  Mystical  views,  315.  Ser- 
vices of  the  ascetics  in  enforcing 
the  duty  of  chastity,  318-320 

Childrer,  charge  of  murdering  in- 
fants, among  the  early  Christians, 
i.  417.  Abortion,  ii.  20-24. 
Infanticide,  24,  26.  Exposed 
children,  32.  Institutions  of  tha 


INDEX. 


379 


CHI 

Romans  fop  the  benefit  of  children, 

77 

Cliilon,  his  closing  hours,  i.  207 

Cholera,  theological  notions  respect- 
ing the,  i.  356 

Christian  and  pagan  virtues  com- 
pared, i.  190 

Christianity ; distinctions  between 
the  pagan  and  Christian  concep- 
tions of  death,  i.  208.  The  im- 
portance of  Christianity  not 
recognised  by  pagan  writers,  336. 
Causes  of  this,  338.  Examination 
of  the  theory  which  ascribes  part 
of  the  teaching  of  the  later  pagan 
moralists  to  Christian  influence, 
340.  Theory  which  attributes 
the  conversion  of  Rome  to  evi- 
dences of  miracles,  346.  Opinion 
of  the  pagans  about  the  credulity 
of  the  Christians,  347.  Incapacity 
of  the  Christians  of  the  third  cen- 
tury for  judging  historic  miracles, 
37 o.  And  for  judging  prophecies, 

376.  Contemporary  miracles  rep- 
resented as  existing  among  them, 

377.  Christian  miracles  had  pro- 
bably little  weight  with  the 
pagans,  385.  Progress  of  Chris- 
tianity to  what  due,  386,  387. 
Singular  adaptation  of  it  to  the 
Wants  of  the  time,  387.  Heroism 
it  inspired,  390.  Explanation  of 
the  conversion  of  the  Roman  Em- 
pire, 393.  Account  of  the  perse- 
cutions of  the  Christians,  395. 
Reasons  why  the  Christians  were 
more  persecuted  than  the  Jews, 
403,  406,  407.  The  first  cause  of 
the  persecution  of  the  Christians, 
406.  Charges  of  immorality 
brought  against  them,  414.  Due 
in  a great  measure  to  Jews  and 
heretics,  416,  417.  The  distur- 
bance of  domestic  life  caused  by 
female  conversions,  418.  Anti- 
pathy of  the  Romans  to  every 
system  which  employed  religious 


CHE 

terrorism,  421.  Christian  intole- 
rance of  pagan  worship,  423. 
And  of  diversity  of  belief,  424- 
427.  History  of  the  persecutions, 
429.  Nero’s,  429.  Domitian's, 
431.  Condition  of  the  Christians 
under  the  Antonines,  434.  Be- 
come profoundly  obnoxious  to  the 
people,  436.  Marcus  Aurelius, 
439,  440.  Introduction  of  Chris- 
tianity into  France,  442,  and  note. 
Attitude  of  the  rulers  towards  it 
from  M.  Aurelius  to  Decius,  451, 
et  seq.  Condition  of  the  Church 
on  the  eve  of  the  Decian  persecu- 
tion, 448.  Gallus,  454.  Valerian, 
454.  Gallienus,  455.  Erection 
of  churches  in  the  Empire,  457. 
Persecutions  of  Diocletian  and 
Galerius,  458.  End  of  the  perse- 
cutions, 4 63.  Massacre  of  Chris- 
tians in  Phrygia,  464.  Moral 
efficacy  of  the  Christian  sense  of 
sin,  ii.  3.  Dark  views  of  human 
nature  not  common  in  the  early 
Church,  5.  The  penitential  sys- 
tem, 6.  Empire  Christianity  at- 
tained in  eliciting  disinterested 
enthusiasm,  8.  Great  purity  of 
the  early  Christians,  10,  11.  The 
promise  of  the  Church  for  many 
centuries  falsified,  12.  The  first 
consequence  of  Christianity  a new 
sense  of  the  sanctity  of  human 
life,  17.  Influence  in  the  protec- 
tion of  infant  life,  20-32.  In 
the  suppression  of  gladiatorial 
shows,  34.  Its  effect  upon  per- 
secutions, 40,  et  seq.  The  penal 
code  not  lightened  by  it,  42. 
Condemnation  of  suicide,  43. 
Second  consequence  of  Christianity 
Teaches  universal  brotherhood, 
61.  Slavery,  61-66.  Ransom  of 
captives,  72.  Charity,  73.  Exer- 
tions of  tho  Christians  in  the 
cause  of  charity,  75,  79.  Their 
exertions  when  the  Empire  w,w 


3S0 


INDEX. 


OHR 

subverted,  81,  82,  88.  Theologi- 
cal notions  concerning  insanity, 
85-90.  Almsgiving,  90-92. 
Beneficial  effect  of  Christianity 
in  supplying  pure  images  to  the 
imagination,  99.  Summary  of 
the  philanthropic  achievements 
of  Christianity,  100.  Ways  in 
which  the  ascetic  mode  of  life 
affected  both  the  ideal  type  and 
realised  condition  of  morals,  122, 
ct  scq.  History  of  the  relations 
of  Christianity  to  the  civic  virtues, 
140.  Improvements  effected  by 
Christianity  in  the  morals  of  the 
people,  153.  Attitude  of  Chris- 
tianity to  the  barbarians,  178. 
How  it  achieved  their  conver- 
sion, 179  181.  Tendency  of  the 
barbarians  to  adulterate  it,  181. 
Legends  of  the  conflict  between 
the  old  gods  and  the  new  faith, 
181.  Fiorce  hatred  of  rival 
sects,  and  total  destruction  of 
religious  liberty,  194,  200.  Poly- 
theistic and  idolatrous  form  of 
Christianity  in  mediaeval  times, 
229.  The  doctrine  of  purgatory, 
232.  Benefits  conferred  by  the 
monasteries,  243-245.  The  ob- 
servance of  Sundav',  245.  Influ- 
ence of  Christianity  upon  war, 
254,  259.  Upon  the  consecration 
of  secular  rank,  260,  etseq.  Upon 
the  condition  of  women,  316,  ct 
scq.  Strong  assertion  of  the 
equality  of  obligation  in  marriage, 
345,  346.  ^Relation  of  Christianity 
to  the  female  virtues,  358,  ct 
seq. 

Olirysippus  on  the  immortality  of 
the  soul,  i.  183 

Chrysostom,  St.,  his  labours  for 
monachism,  ii.  107.  Histreatment 
of  his  mother,  132 

Cicero  on  the  evidence  of  a Divine 
element  within  us,  i.  56,  note. 
His  definition  of  conscience,  83. 


CIA 

His  conception  of  the  Deity,  164- 
His  opinion  of  the  popular  beliefsi 
1 65.  Instance  of  his  love  of  tr  ith, 
176,  vote.  His  desire  for  pist 
humous  reputation,  185,  note. 
His  declaration  as  to  virtue  con- 
cealing itself  from  the  world,  1 85. 
His  belief  in  the  immortality  of 
the  soul,  204.  His  view  of  death, 
205,  206.  His  complacency  on  the 
approach  of  death,  207-  His  con- 
ception of  suicide,  213.  His 
maintenance  of  the  doctrine  of 
universal  brotherhood,  240.  How 
he  regarded  the  games  of  the 
arena,  285.  His  friendship  with 
his  freedman  Tiro,  323.  His  re- 
marks 'on  charity,  ii.  79.  His 
rules  respecting  almsgiving,  92 
Circumcelliones,  atrocities  of  the,  ii. 
41.  Their  custom  of  provoking 
martyrdom,  49 

Civic  virtues,  predominance  accorded 
to,  in  ancient  ethics,  i.  200 
Civilisat  on,  refining  influence  of,  on 
taste,  i.  79.  Pleasures  of  a civi- 
lised and  semi-civilised  society 
compared,  86.  Views  of  Millaud 
Buckle  on  the  comparative  influ- 
ence of  intellectual  and  moral 
agencies  in,  102,  note.  Effect  of 
education  in  diminishing  cruelty, 
and  producing  charity,  134.  Moral 
enthusiasm  appropriate  to  differ- 
ent stages  of  civilisation,  136. 
Increase  of  veracity  with  civilisa- 
tion, 137.  Each  stage  of  civilisa- 
tion specially  appropriate  to  some 
virtue,  147 

Clarke,  on  moral  judgments,  i.  77 
Classical  literature,  preservation  i f, 
ii.  199.  Manner  in  which  it  was 
regarded  by  the  Church,  200-204 
Claudius,  his  delight  in  gladiatorial 
shows,  i.  2S0.  His  decree  as  to 
slaves,  307 

Claver,  Father,  his  remark  on  somo 
persons  who  had  delivered  a 


INDEX. 


381 


CLE 

criminal  into  th6  hands  of  justice, 

i.  41,  note 

Cleanthes,  his  suicide,  i.  212 
Clemency,  Seneca’s  distinction  be- 
tween it  and  pity,  i.  189 
Clement  of  Alexandria,  on  the  two 
sources  of  all  the  wisdom  of  an- 
tiquity, i.  344.  On  the  Sibylline 
books,  376.  On  wigs,  ii.  149 
Clemens,  Flavius,  put  to  death,  i. 
433 

Cleombrotus,  his  suicide,  i.  212,  note 
Clergy,  corruption  of  the,  from  the 
fourth  century,  ii.  150,  237.  Sub- 
mission of  the  Eastern,  but  inde- 
pendence of  the  Western,  clergy 
to  the  civil  power,  264-268.  His- 
tory of  their  celibacy,  328 
Climate,  effects  of,  in  stimulating  or 
allaying  the  passions,  i.  144 
Clotaire,  his  treatment  of  Queen 
Brunehaut,  ii.  237 
Clotilda,  her  conversion  of  her  hus- 
band, i.  410  ; ii.  180 
Clovis,  his  conversion,  i.  410;  ii. 
180.  Gregory  of  Tours’  account 
of  his  acts,  240.  241 
Cock-fighting  among  the  ancients 
and  moderns,  ii.  164,  and  note, 
175,  note 

Cock-throwing,  ii.  164,  note,  175, 
note 

Coemgenus,  St.,  legend  of,  ii.  Ill, 
note 

Coleridge,  S.  T.,  his  remarks  on  the 
practice  of  virtue  as  a pleasure,  i. 
28,  note.  His  admiration  for 
Hartley,  28,  note.  On  the  bind- 
ing ground  of  the  belief  of  God 
and  a hereafter,  i.  55,  note 
Colman,  St.  his  animal  companions, 

ii.  170.  His  girdle,  319,  note 
Colonies,  Roman,  the  cosmopolitan 

spirit  forwarded  by  the  aggran- 
disement of  the,  i.  233 
Colosseum,  the,  i.  275.  Games  at 
the  dedication  of  the,  280 


CON 

I Columbanus,  St.,  his  missionary  la- 
bours, ii.  246 

Comedy,  Roman,  short  period  during 
which  it  flourished,  i.  277 

Comet,  a temple  erected  hv  the  Ro* 
mans  in  honour  of  a,  i.  367 

Commodus,  his  treatment  of  the 
Christians,  i.  443 

Compassion,  theory  that  it  is  the 
cause  of  our  acts  of  barbarity,  i. 
71,  72 

Concubines,  Roman,  ii.  350 

Concupiscence,  doctrine  of  the  Fa- 
thers respecting,  ii.  281 

Condillac,  cause  of  the  attractive- 
ness of  utilitarianism  to,  i.  71. 
Connection  with  Locke,  i.  122, 
note 

Confessors,  power  of  the,  in  the 
early  Church,  i.  390,  and  note 

Congo,  Helv^tius,  on  a custom  of  the 
people  of,  i.  102,  note 

Conquerors,  causes  of  the  admira- 
tion of,  i.  94,  95 

Conscience,  association  of  ideas 
generating,  i.  28.  Recognised  by 
the  disciples  of  Hartley,  29.  Defi- 
nitions of  Hobbes,  Locke,  Ben- 
tham,  and  Bain,  29,  note.  The 
rewards  and  punishments  of  con- 
science, 60-62.  Unique  position 
of,  in  our  nature,  83.  As  defined 
by  Cicero,  the  Stoics,  St.  Paul, 
and  Butler,  83 

Consequences,  remote,  weakness  of 
the  utilitarian  doctrine  of,  i.  42- 
44 

‘Consolations,’  literature  of,  leading 
topics  of,  i.  204 

Constantine,  the  Emperor,  his  foun- 
dation of  the  empire  of  the  E&ri, 
ii.  12.  His  humane  policy  to- 
wards children,  29,  30.  His  sanc- 
tion of  the  gladiatorial  shows,  35. 
His  laws  mitigating  the  severity 
of  punishments,  42.  His  treat- 
ment of  slaves,  64.  His  lavt 


3S2 


INDEX. 


con 

respecting  Sunday.  244-.  Magni- 
ficence of  his  court  at  Constanti- 
nople, 2G5 

Conventual  system,  effect  of  the  sup- 
pression of  the,  on  women,  ii.  369 
Oordeilla,  or  Cordelia,  her  suicide, 
ii.  53,  note 

Corinth,  effect  of  the  conquest  of,  on 
the  decadence  of  Rome,  i.  169 
Cornelia,  a vestal  virgin,  incident  of 
her  execution,  ii.  318,  note 
Cornelius,  the  bishop,  martyrdom  of, 

i.  454 

Cornutus,  his  disbelief  in  a future 
state,  i.  183 

Corporations,  moral  qualities  of,  i. 
152 

Councils  of  the  Church,  character  of 
the,  ii.  197,  note 

Courtesans,  Greek,  ii.  287.  Causes 
of  their  elevation,  291  -294.  How 
regarded  by  the  Romans,  300 
Cousin,  Victor,  his  criticism  of  the 
Scotch  moralists,  i.  7 t,  note.  His 
objection  against.  Locke,  75,  note 
Grantor,  originates  the  literature  of 
‘Consolations,’  i.  204 
Cremutius  Cordus,  trial_  of,  i.  418. 
vote 

Crime,  value  attached  by  the  monks 
to  pecuniary  compensations  for, 

ii.  213.  Catalogue  of  crimes  of 
the  seventh  century,  237-239 

Criminals,  causes  of  our  indulgent 
judgment  of,  i.  135 
Critical  spirit,  the,  destroyed  by 
Neoplatonism,  i.  330 
Cromaziano,  his  history  of  suicide, 
i.  216,  note 

Cruelty,  origin  and  varieties  of,  i. 
132,  134.  Cruelty  to  animals, 
utilitarian  doctrine  concerning, 
46,  47 

Crusius,  his  adherence  to  the  opinion 
of  Ockham  as  to  the  foundation 
of  the  moral  law,  i.  17,  ncSt 
Cudworth,  his  analysis  of  mural 
judgments,  i.  76 


DRO 

Culngium,  a tax  levied  on  the  clergy, 
ii.  330 

Cumberland,  Bishop,  his  unselfish 
view  of  virtue,  i.  19,  note 
Cynics,  account  of  the  later,  i.  309 
Cyprian,  St.,  his  evasion  of  perse- 
cution by  flight,  i.  452.  His  exile 
and  martyrdom,  455 
Cyzicus  deprived  of  its  freedom,  i. 
259 

DAEMONS,  Apuleius’  disquisition 
on  the  doctrine  of,  i.  323.  I he 
doctrine  supersedes  the  Stoical 
naturalism,  i.  331.  The  dsemons 
of  the  Greeks  and  Romans,.  380. 
And  of  the  Christians,  382 
Dale,  Van,  his  denial  of  the  super- 
natural character  of  the  oracles,  i. 
374 

Dead,  Roman  worship  of  the,  l.  168 
Death,  calmness  with  which  some 
men  of  dull  and  animal  natures 
can  meet,  i.  89.  1'rame  of  mind 
in  which  a man  should  approach 
death,  according  to  Epictetus,  195. 
Preparation  for  death  ono  of  the 
chief  ends  of  the  philosophy  of 
1 he  ancients,  202.  Bacon’s  objec- 
tion to  the  Stoics’  view  of,  202. 
The  Irish  legend  of  the  islands 
of  life  and  death,  203.  The 
literature  of  ‘Consolations,’  201. 
Death  not  regarded  by  the  philo- 
sophers as  penal,  205.  Popular 
terrors  of  death,  205,  206.  In- 
stances of  tranquil  pagan  deaths, 
207.  Distinctions  between  the 
pagan  and  Christian  conceptions 
of  death,-  208 

Dccius,  persecution  of  the  Christians 
under,  i.  449,  450 

Defoe,  Daniel,  his  tract  against  bog- 
gars,  ii.  98,  and  note 
Delphi,  oracle  of,  its  description  of 
the  best  religion,  i.  167 
Dengratias,  his  ransom  of  prisoners, 
ii.  72 


INDEX. 


3S 


Q 

O 


DES 

Despotism,  Helvetitis’  remarks  on 
the  moral  effects  of,  i.  129,  note 
Diagoras,  his  denial  of  the  exist- 
ence of  the  gods,  i.  162 
Diodorus,  the.  philosopher,  his 
suicide,  i.  21.5 

Dion  Chrysostom,  ids  denunciation 
of  images  of  tiie  Deity,  i.  166, 
167,  note.  Ills  life  and  works, 
312 

Dionysius  of  Halicarnassus,  on  the 
creed  of  the  Romans,  i.  167 
Disinterestedness,  Bentham’s  re- 
marks on,  quoted,  i.  32,  note 
Disposition,  what  constitutes,  ac- 
cording to  the  theory  of  associa- 
tion, i.  30 

Divination,  a favourite  subject  of 
Roman  ridicule,  i.  166.  Belief  of 
the  ancients  in,  363 
Divorce,  unbounded  liberty  of, 
among  the  Romans,  ii.  306-308. 
Condemned  by  the  Church,  350, 
351 

Docetse,  their  tenets,  ii.  102 
Dog-star,  legend  of  the,  ii.  162 
Dolphin,  legends  of  the,  ii.  1 62,  and 
note 

Domestic  laws,  Roman,  changes  in, 
i.  297,  298 

Domestic  virtues,  destruction  of  the, 
by  the  ascetics,  ii.  125 
Domitian,  his  law  respecting  suicide 
i.  219.  Anecdote  of  his  cruelty, 
289.  His  law  as  to  slaves,  307. 
Ilis  persecution  of  the  Stoics  and 
Christians,  431,  432 
Domitilla,  banishment  of,  i.  433 
Domnina,  her  suicide  with  her  daugh- 
ters, ii.  46 

Donatists,  their  intolerance,  ii.  195 
Dowry  of  women,  rise  of  the,  ii.  277 
and  note  ■ 

Dreams,  opinions  of  the  Romans  con- 
cerning. i.  366,  367,  note 
Dumont,  M.,  on  vengeance  quoted,  i. 
41.  note 

Duty,  theory  of  morals  must  explain 


ENG 

what  is,  and  the  notion  of  there 
being  such  a thing  as,  i.  5.  Raley 
on  the  difference  between  it.  and 
prudence,  15,  16,  note.  Distinc- 
tion between  natural  duties  and 
those  resting  on  positive  law, 
93.  Duty  a distinct  motive,  1.39 
Dwarfs,  combats  of,  in  the  arena,  i. 
281 


Earthquakes,  how  regarded 

by  the  ancients,  i.  369.  Cause 
of  persecutions  of  the  Christians, 
408 

Easter  controversy,  bitterness  of  the, 
ii.  198 

Eclectic  school  of  philosophy,  rise  of 
the,  i.  242.  Its  influence  on  the 
Stoics,  245 

Eclipses,  opinions  of  the  ancients 
concerning,  i.  366 

Education,  importance  ascribed  to, 
by  the  theory  of  the  association 
of  ideas,  i.  30.  Contrast  between 
that  adopted  by  the  Catholic 
priesthood  and  that  of  the  Eng- 
lish public  schools,  114.  Its  in- 
fluence on  the  benevolent  feelings, 
133,  134.  Two  distinct  theories 
of,  187 

Egypt,  the  cradle  of  monachism,  ii. 
105.  The  Mohammedan  conquest 
of,  143.  Triumphs  of  the  Catholics 
in,  196 

Egyptians,  their  reverence  for  the 
vulture,  i.  108,  note.  Their  kind- 
ness to  animals,  289.  Contrast  of 
the  spirit  of  their  religion  with 
that  of  the  Greeks,  324.  Differen  -e 
between  the  Stoical  and  Egyptian 
pantheism,  325 
Elephants,  legends  of,  ii.  1 G 1 
Emperors,  Roman,  apotheosis  of, 
i.  170,  257 

Endura,  the  Albigensian  practice  of, 
ii.  49 

England,  national  virtues  and  vice* 


3S4: 


INDEX. 


Ern 

of,  i.  153,  Ancient  amusements  of, 
ii.  174,  175,  note 
Ephrem,  St.,  his  charity,  ii.  81 
Epictetus,  his  disbelief  in  a future 
state,  i.  1 83.  His  life  and 
works,  184,  and  note.  On  the 
frame  of  mind  in  which  a man 
should  approach  death,  195.  His 
views  of  the  natural  virtue 
of  man,  198.  On  suicide,  214, 
note,  220.  On  universal  brother- 
hood, 254.  His  stoicism  tempered 
by  a milder  and  more  religious 
spirit,  245,  246.  His  remarks  on 
national  religious  beliefs,  405 
Epicureans,  their  faith  preserved 
unchanged  at  Athens,  i.  128,  and 
note.  Their  scepticism,  162.  Ro- 
man Epicureans,  162,  163.  Epi- 
cureanism the  expression  of  a 
type  of  character  different  from 
Stoicism,  171,  172.  But  never 
became  a school  of  virtue  in 
Rome,  175.  Destruc'ive  nature 
of  its  functions,  176.  Esteemed 
pleasure  as  tho  ultimate  end  of 
our  actions,  186.  Encouraged 
physical  science,  193.  Their 
doctrine  as  to  suicide,  214,  215, 
note 

Epicurus,  the  four  canons  of,  i.  14. 
Vast  place  occupied  by  his  system 
in  the  moral  history  of  man,  171. 
His  character,  175,  176,  note. 
Lucretius’  praise  of  him,  197. 
His  view  of  death,  2(15.  Dis- 
covery of  one  of  his  treatises  at 
Herculaneum,  205,  note 
Epidemics,  theological  notions  re- 
specting, i.  356 

Epiphanius,  St.,  his  miraculous 
series,  i.  378.  His  charges 
against  the  Gnostics,  417.  Legend 
of  him  and  St.  Hilarius,  ii.  159 
Epponina,  story  of  her  conjugal 
fidelity,  ii.  342 

Error,  the  notion  of  tho  guilt  of, 
ii.  190-193 


EXF 

Essenes,  virginity  their  ideal  of 
sanctity,  i.  109,  ii.  102 
Euhemerus,  his  explanation  of  thw 
legends,  i.  163 

Euphrates  the  Stoic,  liis  answer  to 
Pliny  the  Younger,  i.  202.  Has 
permission  from  Hadrian  to  com- 
mit suicide,  218,  note 
Euphraxia,  St.,  ii.  110 
Euripides,  beauty  of  the  gentler 
virtues  inculcated  in  the  nlays  of, 
i.  228 

Eusebius,  on  the  allegorical  and 
mythical  interpretations  of  pagan- 
ism, i.  163,  note.  His  account 
of  the  Christian  persecutions,  i. 
463 

Eusebius,  St.,  his  penances,  ii. 
108 

Eustathius,  condemnation  of,  by 
the  council  of  Gangra,  ii.  131 
Evagrius,  his  inhumanity  to  his 
parents,  ii.  125 

Evil,  views  of  Hobbes  and  the  Utili- 
tarians of  the  essence  and  origin 
of,  i.  8-10 

Excellence,  supreme,  how  far  it  is 
conducive  to  happiness,  i.  56 
Excommunication,  penalties  of,  ii.  7 
Executioners,  always  regarded  as 
unholy,  i.  41 

Exorcism,  among  the  early  Christ- 
ians, i.  378,  380.  Origin  of  tho 
notions  of  possession  and  exor- 
cism, 380.  Jews  the  principal 
exorcists,  380.  Belief  of  the  early 
Christians  in,  382  Contempt  of 
the  pagans  for  it,  384.  Ulpian's 
law  against  exorcists,  384.  Prob- 
able explanation  of  possession 
and  exorcism,  385.  Speedy  decline 
of  exorcism,  385.  The  practice 
probably  had  no  appreciable  in- 
fluence in  provoking  persecution 
of  the  Christians,  420 
Experience,  general  statement  of 
tho  doctrine  which  bases  morals 
upon,  i.  5 


INDEX. 


3S5 


FAB 

17A15IANUS,  martyrdom  of,  1.  -146 
. Fahiola,  founded  the  first  public 
hospital,  ii.  80 

Fabius,  his  self-sacrifice,  i.  185 
Fabius  Pictor,  his  works  written  in 
Greek,  i.  230 

Faculty,  moral,  the  term,  i.  75 
Fairies,  belief  in,  i.  348,  349 
Fatalism,  iEschylus  the  poet  of,  i. 

196 

Felicitas,  St.,  her  martyrdom,  l.  444. 
In  prison,  ii.  9 

Fenclon,  on  the  unselfish  love  we 
should  bear  to  God,  i.  18,  note 
Fetichism,  latent,  the  root  of  a 
great  part  of  our  opinions,  i.  350 
Fidense,  accident  at  the  amphi- 
theatre at,  i.  275 

Fights,  sham,  in  Italy  in  the  middle 
ages,  ii.  37,  38 

Fire,  regarded  by  the  ancients  as  an 
emblem  of  virginity,  i.  108,  note 
Fish,  symbol  of  the  early  Christians, 
i.  376 

Flamens  of  Jupiter,  ii.  298 
•Flora,  games  of,  i.  276 
Forethought,  brought  into  a new 
position  by  industrial  habits,  i.  140 
Foundlings,  hospitals  for,  ii.  23, 
note,  32.  In  ancient  times,  28, 
29.  Adversaries  of,  98,  and  note 
France,  condition  of,  under  the 
Merovingian  kings,  ii.  236,  note 
Francis  of  Assisi,  St.,  story  of  his 
death  from  asceticism,  ii.  49.  His 
kindness  to  animals,  172 
Franks,  cause  of  their  conversion,  i. 
410 

Fredegonde,  Queen,  her  crimes,  ii. 
236,  237 

Freedmen,  influence  of,  at  Rome,  i. 
233.  Condition  of  the  freedmen  of 
the  Romans,  236 

I'renchmen,  the  chief  national  vir- 
tues and  causes  of  their  influence 
in  Europe,  i.  152.  Compared 
with  Anglo-Saxon  nations,  153 
Friendship,  Utilitarian  view  of,  i.  10 


OLA 

G(  ALEKUjS,  his  persecution  of  the 
r Christians,  i.  458,  461.  His 
illness,  462.  Relents  towards  the 
Christians,  462 

Galilaeans,  their  Indifference  to 
death,  i.  392,  note 

Gall,  St,,  legend  of,  ii.  182.  Ilia 
missionary  labours,  247 
Gallienus,  proclaims  toleration  to 
the  Christians,  i.  455,  457 
Gallus,  tho  Emperor,  persecutions  rf 
the  Christians  under,  i.  454 
Gambling- table,  moral  influence  i f 
the,  i.  148 

Gaul,  introduction  of  Christianity 
into,  i.  442.  Foundation  of  tho 
monastic  system  in,  ii.  106.  Long 
continuance  of  polygamy  among 
the  kings  of,  343 

Gay,  his  view  of  the  origin  of  human 
actions,  quoted,  i.  8,  note.  His 
suggestion  of  the  theory  of  associ- 
ation, 23,  24 

Genseric,  effect  of  his  conquest  of 
Africa  upon  Italy,  ii.  82.  His  cap- 
ture of  Rome,  S3 

George  of  Cappadocia,  his  barbarity, 
ii.  195 

Germanicus,  the  Emperor,  fury  of 
the  populace  with  the  gods,  in 
consequence  of  the  death  of,  i. 
169 

Germanus,  St.,  his  charity,  ii.  215 
Germany,  conversion  of,  to  Chris- 
tianity, ii.  246.  Marriage  customs 
of  the  early  Germans,  278.  Their 
chastity,  310,  341 

Gervasius,  St..,  recovery  of  his  re- 
mains, i.  379. 

Girdles  of  chastity,  ii.  319,  note 
Gladiatorial  shows,  influence  of! 
Christianity  on  the  suppression  of 
i.  34.  Reasons  why  the  Romani? 
saw  nothing  criminal  in  them, 101 . 
History  and  effect  on  the  Romans 
of,  271-283.  How  regarded  by 
moralists  and  historians,  284. 
The  passion  for  them  not  incon- 


386 


INDEX. 


GNO 

sistent  witn  humanity  in  other 
spheres,  288. 

Gnostics,  accusations  against  the,  by 
the  early  Fathers,  i.  417.  Their 
tenets,  ii.  102 

God,  tiie  Utilitarian  view  of  the 
goodness  of,  i.  9,  and  note.  Ques- 
tion of  the  disinterestedness  of 
the  love  we  should  bear  to,  IS. 
Our  knowledge  of  Him  derived 
from  our  own  moral  nature,  55. 
Early  traces  of  an  all-pervading 
soul  of  nature  in  Greece,  161, 162, 
170.  Philosophic  definitions  of  the 
Deity,  162,  note.  Pantheistic 
conception  of,  by  the  Stoics  and 
Platonists,  163.  Iiecognition  of 
Providence  by  the  Roman  moral- 
ists, 196.  Two  aspects  under 
which  the  Stoics  worshipped  the 
Divinity — providence  and  moral 
goodness,  198 

Gods,  the,  of  the  ancients,  i.  161,  ct 
seq.  Euhemerus’  theory  of  the 
explanation  of  the  prevailing 
legends  of  the  gods,  163.  Views 
of  CScero  of  the  popular  beliefs, 
165.  Opinions  of  the  Stoics,  of 
Ovid,  and  of  Horace,  166.  Na- 
ture of  the  gods  of  the  Romans, 
1 67.  Decline  of  Roman  reverence 
for  the  gods,  168.  169 

Good,  pleasure  equivalents,  accord- 
ing to  the  Utilitarians,  i.  8, 
note , 9 

Gracchi,  colonial  policy  of  the,  i.  233 

Grazers,  sect  of,  ii.  109 

Greeks,  ancient,  their  callous  murder 
of  children,  i.  45,  46.  Low  state 
of  female  morality  among  them. 
Their  enforcement  of  monogamy, 
104.  Celibacy  of  some  of  their 
priests  and  priestesses,  105.  Early 
traces  of  a religion  of  nature,  161. 
Universal  providence  attributed 
to  Zeus,  161.  Scepticism  of  the 
philosophers,  161,  162.  Import- 
ance of  biography  in  tire  moral 


GTTY 

teaching  of  l lie,  i.  74.  Difference 
between  the  teaching  of  the  Roman 
moralists  and  the  Greek  poets,  1 95. 
On  death,  and  future  punishment, 
205,  ,206.  Greek  suicides,  212. 
Gentleness  and  humanity  of  the 
Greek  character,  227.  Influence 
on  Roman  character,  227,  228. 
The  Greek  spirit  at  first  as  far 
removed  from  cosmopolitanism 
as  that  of  Rome,  228.  Causes  of 
Greek  cosmopolitanism,  229.  Ex- 
tent of  Greek  influence  at  Rome, 
230.  Gladiatorial  shows  among 
them,  276.  Spirit  of  their  reli- 
gion contrasted  with  that  of  the 
Egyptians,  324.  Their  intolerance 
of  foreign  religions,  406.  Con- 
dition and  fall  of  their  empire  of 
the  East,  ii.  12-14.  Their  prac- 
tice of  infanticide,  25-27.  Their 
treatment  of  animals,  164.  Their 
treatment  of  prisoners  taken  in 
war,  257,  258.  Their  marriage 
customs,  277.  AVomen  in  the 
poetic  age,  278.  Peculiarity  of 
Greek  feelings  on  the  position 
of  women,  280,  281.  Unnatural 
forms  assumed  by  vice  amongst 
them,  294 

Gregory  the  Great,  his  contempt  for 
Pagan  literature,  ii.  201,  note. 
His  attitude  towards  Phocas,  264 

Gregory  of  Nyssa,  St.,  his  eulogy  of 
virginity,  ii.  322 

Gregory  of  Tours,  manner  in  which 
he  regarded  events,  ii.  240-242, 
261,  277 

Grotesque,  or  eccentric,  pleasure  de- 
rived from  the,  compared  with 
that  from  beauty,  i.  85 

Gundebald,  his  murders  approved 
of  by  his  bishop,  ii.  237 

Gunpowder,  importance  of  the  in 
vention  of,  i.  126 

Guy,  Brother,  his  society  for  pro- 
tectum  and  education  of  children 
ii.  33,  and  note 


INDEX. 


3S7 


bad 

HADRIAN,  the  Emperor,  liis  view 
of  suicide,  i.  219.  Gives  Eu- 
phrates permission  to  destroy 
himself,  218,  note.  His  laws  re- 
specting slaves,  307.  His  leniency 
towards  Christianity,  438.  His 
benevolence,  ii.  77 
Hair,  false,  opinions  of  the  Fathers 
on,  ii.  149 

Hall,  Robert,  on  theological  Utilita- 
rianism, i.  15  note 
‘Happiness,  the  greatest,  for  the 
greatest  number,’  theory  of  the, 
i.  3.  The  sole  end  of  human 
actions,  according  to  the  Utilita- 
rians, 8.  note.  The  best  man 
seldom  the  happiest,  09.  Mental 
compared  with  physical  happiness, 
87.  Influence  of  health  and 
temperament  on  happiness,  88, 
and  note 

Hartley,  his  doctrine  of  association, 
i.  22.  Coleridge’s  admiration  for 
him,  28,  note.  On  animal  food. 
48,  note.  His  attempt  to  evade 
the  conclusion  to  which  his  view 
leads,  quoted,  67,  note.  His  defi- 
nition of  conscience,  82 
Hegesias,  the  orator  of  death,  i. 
215 

Heliogabalus,  his  blasphemous  or- 
gies, i.  260 

Hell,  monkish  visions  of,  ii.  221  and 
note.  Glimpses  of  the  infernal 
regions  furnished  by  the  ‘ Dia- 
logues ’ of  St.  Gregory,  221. 
Modern  publications  on  this  sub- 
ject, 223,  note 

Heivetius,  on  the  origin  of  human 
actions,  i.  S,  note.  On  customs  of 
the  people  of  Congo  and  Siam, 
102,  note.  Compared  with  Aulus 
Gellius,  313 

Herbert,  of  Cherbury,  Lord,  his 
profession  of  thedoctrine  of  innate 
ideas,  i.  1 23 

Hercules,  meaning  of.  according  to 
the  Stoics,  i.  163 


KDM 

Hereford,  xNicnolas  of,  his  opposition 
to  indiscriminate  alms,  ii.  96 
Heresy,  punishment  of  death  for.  i. 
98  ; ii.  40 

Hermits.  See  Asceticis-m  ; Monas- 
tieism 

Heroism,  the  Utilitarian  theory  un- 
favourable to,  i.  66.  War,  the 
school  of  heroism,  173 
Hilarius,  St.,  legend  of  him  and  St. 

Epiphanius,  ii.  159 
Hildebrand,  his  destruction  of 
priestly  marriage,  ii.  322 
Hippopotamus,  legend  of  the,  ii.  161 
Historical  literature,  scantiness  of, 
after  the  fall  of  the  Roman  em- 
pire, ii.  235 

Hobbes,  Thomas,  his  opinions  con- 
cerning the  essence  and  origin  of 
virtue,  i.  7,  8,  note.  His  view  of 
the  origin  of  human  actions, 
quoted,  8,  note.  His  remarks  on 
the  goodness  which  we  apprehend 
in  God,  quoted,  0,  note.  And  on 
reverence,  9,  note.  On  charity,  9, 

10,  note.  On  pity,  10,  note.  Re- 
view of  the  system  of  morals  of 
his  school,  1 1 . Gives  the  first 
great  impulse  to  moral  philosophy 
in  England,  19,  note.  His  denial 
of  the  reality  of  pure  benevolence, 
20,  21.  His  definition  of  con- 
science, 29,  note.  His  theory  of 
compassion,  72,  note 

Holidays,  importance  of,  to  the  ser- 
vile classes,  ii.  244 
Homer,  his  views  of  human  nature 
aud  man’s  will,  i.  196 
Horace,  his  ridicule  of  idols,  i.  166. 
His  description  of  the  just  man, 
197 

Hospitality  enjoined  by  the  Romans, 

11.  79 

Hospitals,  foundation  of  the  first,  ii. 
80,  81 

Human  life,  its  sanctity  recognised 
by  Christianity,  ii.  18.  Gradual 
acquirement  of  this  sense,  18 


388 


INDEX. 


HUM 

Human  nature,  false  estimate  of,  by 
the  Stoics,  i.  192 

Hume,  David,  his  theory  of  virtue, 
i.  4.  Misrepresented  by  many 
writers,  4.  His  recognition  of  the 
reality  of  benevolence  in  our 
nature,  20,  and  note.  His  com- 
ment on  French  licentiousness  in 
the  eighteenth  century,  50,  note. 
llis  analysis  of  the  moral  judg- 
ments, 76.  Lays  the  foundation 
for  a union  of  the  schools  of 
Clarke  and  Shaftesbury,  77 
Humility,  new  value  placed  upon  it 
by  raonachism,  ii.  185,  187 
Hutcheson,  Francis,  his  doctrine  of 
a ‘ moral  sense,’  i.  4.  Establishes 
the  reality  of  the  existence  of  be- 
nevolence in  our  nature,  20.  nis 
analysis  of  moral  judgments,  76 
Hypatia,  murder  of,  ii.  196 


TAMBLICHUS,  his  philosophy,  i. 

1 330 

Ideas,  confused  association  of. 
Question  whether  our,  are  de- 
rived exclusively  from  sensation 
or  whether  they  spring  in  part 
from  the  mind  itself,  122.  The 
latter  theory  represented  by  the 
Platonic  doctrine  of  pre-existence, 
122.  Doctrine  of  innate  ideas, 
122 

Idols  and  idolatry,  views  of  the 
Eoman  philosophers  of,  i.  166. 
Discussion  between  Apollonius  of 
Tyana  and  an  Egyptian  priest  re- 
specting, 166,  note.  Idcls  for- 
bidden by  Numa,  166,  note.  Plu- 
tarch on  the  vanity  of,  166,  note 

Ignatius,  St.,  his  martyrdom,  i.  438 

Ignis  fatuus,  legend  of  the,  ii.  224, 
note 

Imagination,  sins  of,  i.  44.  Delation 
of  the  benevolent  feelings  to  it, 
132,133.  Deficiency  of  imagina 
tion  the  cause  of  the  great  ma- 


IHT 

jority  of  uncharitable  judgments, 
134-136.  Feebleness  of  the 
imagination  a source  of  legends 
and  myths,  347.  Beneficial  effec-is 
of  Christianity  in  supplying  pure 
images  to  the  imagination,  299 
Imperial  system  of  the  Eomans,  its 
effect  on  their  morals,  i.  257. 
Apotheosis  of  the  emperors,  257 
India,  ancient,  admiration  for  the 
schools  of,  i.  229 

Inductive,  ambiguity  of  the  term,  as 
applied  to  morals,  i.  73 
Industrial  truth,  characteristics  of, 
i.  137.  Influence  of  the  promo- 
tion of  industrial  life  upon  morals, 
139-1  41) 

Infanticide,  history  of  the  practice 
of,  ii.  24.  Efforts  of  the  Church 
to  suppress  it,  29.  Eoman  laws 
relating  to,  31.  Causes  of,  in 
England,  285 

Infants,  Augustinian  doctrine  of  the 
damnation  of  unbaptised,  i.  96. 
The  Sacrament  given  to,  in  the 
early  Church,  ii.  6 
Insanity,  alleged  increase  of,  ii.  60. 
Theological  notions  concerning, 
86.  The  first  lunatic  asylums,  88 
Insurance  societies  among  the  poor 
of  Greece  and  Eome,  ii.  78 
Intellectual  progress,  its  relations  to 
moral  progress,  i.  149  151 
Interest,  self-,  human  actions  go- 
verned exclusively  by,  according 
to  the  Utilitarians,  i.  7,  8,  note. 
Summary  of  the  relations  of  vir- 
tue and  public  and  private,  1 1 7 
Intuition,  rival  claims  of,  and  utility 
to  be  regarded  as  the  supreme 
regulator  of  moral  distinctions,  i. 

1,  2.  Various  names  by  which 
the  theory  of  intuition  is  known, 

2,  3.  Views  of  the  moralists  of 
the  school  of,  3.  Summary  of 
their  objections  to  tbe  Utilitarian 
theory,  i.  69.  The  intuitive  school, 
74, 75.  Doctrines  of  Butler,  Adam 


INDEX. 


389 


mv 

Smith,  and  others,  76-77.  Analo- 
gies of  beauty  and  virtue,  77. 
Distinction  between  the  higher 
and  lower  parts  of  our  nature,  83. 
Moral  judgments,  and  their  alleged 
diversities,  91.  General  moral 
principles  alone  revealed  by  intui- 
tion, 99.  Intuitive  morals  not 
unprogressive,  102,  103.  Diffi- 
culty of  both  the  intuitive  anl 
utilitarian  schools  in  finding  a 
fixed  frontier  line  between  the 
lawful  and  the  illicit,  116,  117. 
The  intuitive  and  utilitarian 
schools  each  related  to  the  gene- 
ral condition  of  society,  122. 
Their  relations  to  metaphysical 
schools,  123,  121.  And  to  the 
Baconian  philosophy,  125.  Con- 
trasts between  ancient  and  modern 
civilisations,  126,  127.  Practical 
consequences  of  the  opposition  be- 
tween the  two  schools,  127 
Inventions,  the  causes  which  accele- 
rate the  progress  of  society  in 
modern  times,  i.  126 
Ireland,  why  handed  over  by  the 
Pope  to  England,  ii.  217 
Ireneeus,  his  belief  that  all  Chris- 
tians had  the  power  of  working 
miracles,  i.  378 

Dish,  characteristics  of  the,  i.  138. 
Their  early  marriages  and  na- 
tional improvidences,  146.  Ab- 
sence of  moral  scandals  among 
the  priesthood,  146.  Their  legend 
of  the  islands  of  life  and  death, 
203.  Their  missionary  labours, 
ii.  246.  Their  perpendicular 
burials,  253 

Isidore,  St.,  legend  of,  ii.  205 
Isis,  worship  of.  at  Rome,  i.  387. 

Suppression  of  the  worship,  402 
Ilalians,  characteristics  of  the,  i. 
138,  144 

Italy,  gigantic  development  of  men- 
dicancy in,  ii.  98.  Introduction  of 
monachism  into,  106 


JUL 

JAMES,  the  Apostle,  Eusebius'  ac- 
count of  him,  ii.  105 
Jamos,  St.,  of  Venice,  his  kindness 
to  animals,  ii.  172 
Jenyns,  Soame.  his  adherence  to  the 
opinion  of  Ockham,  i.  17,  i-ote 
Jerome,  St.,  on  exorcism,  i.  382.  On 
the  clean  and  unclean  animals  in 
the  ark,  ii.  104.  Legend  of,  115. 
Encouraged  inhumanity  of  asce- 
tics to  their  relations,  134.  His 
legend  of  SS.  Paul  and  Antony, 
158 

Jews,  their  law  regulating  marriage 
and  permitting  polygamy,  i.  103. 
Their  treatment  of  suicides,  218, 
note.  Influence  of  their  manners 
and  creed  at  Rome,  235,  337. 
Became  the  principal  exorcists, 
380,  381,  note.  Spread  of  their 
creed  in  Rome,  386.  Reasons 
why  they  were  persecuted  less 
than  the  Christians,  402,  407. 
How  regarded  by  the  pagans,  and 
how  the  Christians  were  regarded 
by  the  Jews,  415.  Charges  of 
immorality  brought  against  the 
Christians  by  the  Jews,  417. 
Domitian's  taxation  of  them,  432. 
Their  views  of  the  position  of 
women,  ii.  337 

Joffre,  Jnan  Gilaberto,  his  founda- 
tion of  a lunatic  asylum  in  Va- 
lencia, ii.  89 

John,  St.,  at  Patmos,  i.  433 
John,  St.,  of  Calama,  story  of,  ii, 
128 

John  XXIII  , Pope,  his  crimes,  ii. 
331 

Johnson,  Dr.,  his  adherence  to  the 
opinion  of  Ockham,  i.  17,  note 
Julian,  the  Emperor,  his  tranquil 
death,  i.  207,  and  note.  Refuses 
the  language  of  adulation,  259. 
His  attempt  to  resuscitate  pagan- 
ism, 331.  Attitude  of  the  Church 
towards  him,  ii.  261.  Joy  at  his 
death.  262 


57 


390 


INDEX. 


JUL 

Julien  1'iiospitalier,  St.,  legend  of, 
ii.  81,  note 

Jupiter  Ammon,  fountain  of  deemed 
miraculous,  i.  366,  and  note 

J ust'  nian , his  laws  respecting  slavery, 
ii.  65 

Justin  Martyr,  his  recognition  of  the 
excellence  of  many  parts  of  the 
pagan  writings,  i.  34-1.  On  the 
‘seminal  logos,’  344.  On  the 
Sibylline  books,  376.  Cause  of 
his  conversion  to  Christianity,  415. 
II is  martyrdom,  441 

Juvenal,  on  the  natural  virtue  of 
man,  i.  197 

I '''AMES,  Lord,  on  our  moral  judg- 
k ments,  i.  77.  Notices  the  ana- 
logies between  our  moral  and 
aesthetical  judgments,  77 
King’s  evil,  ceremony  of  touching 
for  the,  i.  363,  note 


T ABIENUS,  his  works  destroyed, 
Jj  i.  448,  note 

Lactantius,  character  of  his  treatise, 
i.  463 

Loetorius,  story  of,  i.  259 
Laughing  condemned  by  the  monks 
of  the  desert,  ii.  115,  note 
Law,  Boman,  its  relation  to  Stoi- 
cism, i.  294,  295.  Its  golden  age 
not  Christian,  but  pagan,  ii.  42 
Lawyers,  their  position  in  literature, 
i.  131,  note 

Legacies  forbidden  to  the  clergy,  ii. 
151.  Power  of  making  bequests 
to  the  clergy  enlarged  by  Constan- 
tine, 215 

Leibnitz,  on  the  natural  or  innate 
powers  of  man,  i.  121,  note 
Leo  the  Isaurian,  Pope,  his  compact 
with  Pepin,  ii.  266 
Leonardo  da  A'inci,  his  kindness  to 
animals,  ii.  172,  note 
Licentiousness,  French,  Hume’s  com- 
ments on,  i.  60,  note 


MAC 

Locke,  aoftn,  his  view  of  monl 
good  and  moral  evil,  i.  8, 

His  theological  utilitarianism,  16, 
note.  His  view  of  the  sanctions 
of  morality,  19.  His  invention 
of  the  phrase  ‘ association  of 
ideas,’  23.  His  definition  of  con- 
science, 29,  note.  Cousin’s  objec- 
tions against  him,  75,  note.  3 1 is 
refutation  of  the  doctrine  of  a 
natural  moral  sense,  123,  124. 
Itise  of  the  sensual  school  out  of 
his  philosophy,  123,  note.  Famous 
formulary  of  his  school,  124 
Lombard,  Peter,  character  of  his 
‘ Sentences  ’ ii.  226.  His  visions 
of  heaven  and  hell,  228 
Longinus,  his  suicide,  i.  219 
Love  terms  Greek,  in  vogue  with 
the  Homans,  i.  231,  note 
Lucan,  failure  of  his  courage  under 
torture,  i.  194.  His  sycophancy, 
191.  His  cosmopolitanism,  240 
Lucius,  the  bishop,  martyrdom  of,  i. 
454 

Lucretius,  his  scepticism,  i.  162. 
His  disbelief  in  the  immortality 
of  the  soul,  i.  182,  note.  His 
praise  of  Epicurus,  197.  His 
suicide,  215.  On  a bereaved  cow, 
ii.  165 

Lunatic  asylums,  the  first,  ii.  89 
Luther’s  wife,  her  remark  on  the 
sensuous  creed  she  had  left,  i.  52 
Lyons,  persecution  of  the  Christians 
at,  i.  441 


J/T ACARIUS,  St.,  miracle  attri- 
_L  buted  to,  ii.  40,  note.  His 
penances,  108,  109.  Legend  of 
his  visit  to  an  enchanted  garden, 
158.  Other  legends  of  him,  108, 
159,  170,  220 

Macedonia,  effect  of  the  conquest  of, 
on  the  decadence  of  Pome,  i.  1 69 
Mackintosh,  Sir  James,  theory  of 
morals  advocated  by,  i.  4.  Fas- 


INDEX. 


391 


MAC 

equation  of  Hartley’s  doctrine  of 
association  over  his  mind,  29 

Macrianus,  persuades  the  Emperor 
Valerian  to  persecute  the  Christ- 
ians, i.  455 

Macrina  Cselia.  her  benevolence  to 
jhildren,  ii.  77 

Magdalen  asylums,  adversaries  of, 
ii.  98,  and  note 

Mallonia,  virtue  of,  ii.  3n9 

Malthus,  on  charity,  ii.  92,  vote 

Mandeville,  his  ‘Enquiry  into  the 
Origin  of  Moral  Virtue/  His 
thesis  that  ‘ private  vices  are  pub- 
lic benefits,’  i.  7.  His  opposition 
to  charity  schools,  ii.  98 

Manicheans,  their  tenets,  ii.  102. 
Their  prohibition  of  animal  food, 
167 

Manilius,  his  conception  of  the 
Deity,  i.  163 

Manufactures,  influence  upon  morals, 
i.  139 

Marcellinus,  Tullius,  his  self-de- 
struction, i.  222 

Marcia,  mistress  of  Commodus,  her 

i.  fluence  in  behalf  of  toleration  to 
the  Christians,  i.  443 

Marcian,  St.,  legend  of  the  visit  of 
St.  A vitus  to  him.  ii.  159 

Marcus,  St.,  story  of,  and  his  mother, 

ii.  128 

Marriage,  how  regarded  by  the 
.Tews,  Greeks,  Romans,  and  Catho- 
lics, i.  103,  104.  Statius’  picture 
ot  the  first  night  of  marriage,  107, 
note.  Reason  why  the  ancient 
Jews  attached  a certain  stigma  to 
virginity,  109.  Conflict  of  views 
of  the  Catholic  priest  and  the 
political  economist  on  the  subject 
of  early  marriages,  114.  Results 
in  some  countries  of  the  difficulties 
with  which  legislators  surround 
marriage,  144.  Early  marriages 
the  most  conspicuous  proofs  of 
Irish  improvidence,  144.  Influ- 
ence of  asceticism  on,  ii.  320. 


Mil 

Notions  of  its  mi  purity,  324. 
Second  marriages,  324 
Marseilles,  hvw  of,  respecting  suicide, 
i.  218,  note.  Epidemic  of  suiei  ie 
among  the  women  of,  ii.  55 
Martial,  sycophancy  of  his  epigrams, 
i.  194 

Martin  of  Tours.  St.,  establishes 
monachism  in  Gaul,  ii.  106 
Martyrdom,  glories  of,  i.  390.  Festi- 
vals of  the  Martyrs,  390,  note. 
Passion  for,  391.  Dissipation  of 
the  people  at  the  festivals,  ii.  150 
Mary,  St,,  of  Egypt,  ii.  110 
Mary,  the  Virgin,  veneration  of,  ii. 
367,  368,  390 

Massilians,  wine  forbidden  to  women 
by  the,  i.  96,  vote 

Maternal  affection,  strength  of,  ii. 
25,  note 

Maurice,  on  the  social  penalties  of 
conscience,  i.  60,  note 
Mauricus,  Junius,  his  refusal  to  al- 
low gladiatorial  shows  at  Vienna, 

i.  286 

Maxentius,  instance  of  his  tyranny, 

ii.  46 

Maximilianus,  his  martyrdom,  ii.  248 
Maximinus,  Emperor,  his  persecu- 
tion of  the  Christians,  i.  446 
Maximus  of  Tyre,  account  of  him 
and  his  discourses,  i.  312.  His 
defence  of  the  ancient  creeds,  323. 
Practical  form  of  his  philosophy, 
329 

Medicine,  possible  progress  of,  i.  158, 
159 

Melania,  St.,  her  bereavement,  ii. 
10.  Her  pilgrimage  through  tho 
Syrian  and  Egyptian  hermitages, 
120 

Milesians,  wine  forbidlen  by  the,  io 
women,  i.  94,  note 

Military  honour  pre-eminent  among 
the  Romans,  i.  172,  173.  History 
cf  the  decadence  of  Roman  mili- 
tary virtue,  268 

Mill,  J., on  association,  25,  note,  I tseg. 


392 


INDEX. 


MIL 

Mill,  J.  S.,  quoted,  i.  29,  47,90,  102 
Minerva,  meaning  of,  according  to 
tho  Stoics,  i.  163 

Miracles,  general  incredulity  on  the 
subject  of,  at  the  present  time,  i. 
316,  348.  Miracles  not  impossi- 
ble, 347.  Established  by  much 
evidence,  347.  Tho  histories  of 
them  always  decline  with  educa- 
tion, 348.  Illustration  of  this  in 
the  belief  in  fairies,  348.  Con- 
ceptions  of  savages,  349.  Legends, 
formation  and  decay  of,  350-352. 
Common  errors  in  reasoning  about 
miracles,  356.  Predisposition  to 
tho  miraculous  in  some  states  of 
society,  362.  Belief  of  the  Romans 
in  miracles,  363-367.  Incapacity 
of  the  Christians  of  the  third  cen- 
tury for  judging  historic  miracles, 
375.  Contemporary  miracles  be- 
lieved in  by  the  early  Christians, 
378.  Exorcism,  378.  Neither  past 
nor  contemporary  Christian  mira- 
cles had  much  weight  upon  the 
pagans,  378 

Missionary  labours,  ii.  246 
Mithra,  worship  of,  in  Rome,  i.  386 
Mohammedans,  their  condemnation 
of  suicide,  ii.  53.  Their  lunatic 
asylums,  89.  Their  religion,  251. 
Effects  of  their  military  triumphs 
on  Christianity.  252 
Molinos,  his  opinion  on  the  love  we 
should  bear  to  God,  condemned,  i. 
18,  note 

Monastic  system,  results  of  the 
Catholic  monastic  system,  i.  107. 
Suicide  of  monks,  ii.  52.  Exertions 
of  the  monks  in  tho  cause  of 
charity,  84.  Causes  of  the  mo- 
nastic movement,  102.  History 
of  the  rapid  propagation  of  it  in 
the  West,  183.  New  value  placed 
by  it  on  obedience  and  humility, 
185,  269.  Relation  of  it  to  the 
intellectual  virtues,  188.  The 
monasteries  regarded  as  the  re- 


MOR 

ceptacles  of  learning,  199.  Fallacy 
of  attributing  to  the  monasteries 
the  genius  that  was  displayed  in 
theology,  208.  Other  fallacies 
concerning  the  services  of  the 
monks,  208-212.  Value  attached 
by  monks  to  pecuniary  compensa- 
tions for  crime,  213.  Causes  of 
their  corruption.  217.  Benefits 
conferred  by  the  monasteries,  243 
Monica,  St  , i.  94,  note 
Monogamy,  establishment  of,  ii.  372 
Monophysitcs,  the  cause,  to  some 
extent,  of  tho  Mohammedan  con 
quest  of  Egypt,  ii.  143 
Montanists,  their  tenets,  ii.  102 
Moral  distinctions,  rival  claims  of 
intuition  and  utility  to  be  regarded 
as  the  supreme  regulators  of,  i.  1 
Moral  judgments,  alleged  diversities 
of,  i.  01.  Are  frequently  due  to 
intellectual  causes,  92.  Instances 
of  this  in  usury  and  abortion,  92. 
Distinction  between  natural  duties 
and  others  resting  on  positive  law, 

93.  Ancient  customs  canonised 
by  time,  93.  Anomalies  explained 
by  a confused  association  of  ideas, 

94,  95.  Moral  perceptions  over- 
ridden by  positive  religions,  95. 
Instances  of  this  in  transubstan- 
tiation  and  the  Augustinian  and 
Calvinistic  doctrinesof  damnation, 
96,  97-  General  moral  principles 
alone  revealed  by  intuition,  99. 
The  moral  unity  of  different 
ages  a unity  not  of  standard 
but  of  tendency,  100.  Application 
of  this  theory  to  the  history  of 
benevolence,  100.  Reasons  why 
acts  regarded  in  one  age  as  crimi- 
nal are  innocent  in  another.  I'll. 
Views  of  Mill  and  Buckle  on  the 
comparative  influence  of  intellec- 
tual and  moral  agencies  in  civili- 
sation, 102,  103,  note.  Intuitive 
morals  not  unprogressive,  102, 
103.  Answers  to  misce’laneotw 


INDEX. 


393 


MOR 

objections  against  the  theory  of 
natural  moral  perceptions,  109. 
Effect  of  the  condition  of  society 
on  the  standard,  but  not  the 
essence,  of  virtue,  110.  Oeca- 
sicnal  duty  of  sacrificing  higher 
duties  to  lower  ones,  110,  et  seq. 
Summary  of  the  relations  of  virtue 
and  public  and  private  interest, 
117.  Two  senses  of  the  word 
natural,  119 

Moral  law,  foundation  of  the,  accord- 
ing to  Ockham  and  his  adherents, 
i.  17,  note.  Various  views  of  the 
sanctions  of  morality,  19.  Utili- 
tarian theological  sanctions,  53. 
The  reality  of  the  moral  nature 
the  one  great  question  of  natural 
theology,  56.  Utilitarian  secular 
sanctions,  57.  The  Utilitarian 
theory  subversive  of  morality,  66. 
Plausibility  and  danger  of  theories 
of  unification  iu  morals,  72.  Our 
knowledge  of  the  laws  of  moral 
progress  nothing  more  than  ap- 
proximate or  general,  136 

' Moral  sense,’  Hutcheson’s  doctrine 
of  a,  i.  4 

Moral  system,  what  it  should  be,  to 
govern  society,  i.  194 

Morals,  each  of  the  two  schools  of, 
related  to  the  general  condition  of 
society,  i.  122.  Their  relations  to 
metaphysical  schools,  123,  124. 
And  to  the  Baconian  philosophy, 
125.  Contrast  between  ancient 
and  modern  civilisations,  125-127. 
Causes  that  lead  societies  to  ele- 
vate their  moral  standard,  and 
determine  their  preference  of  some 
particular  kind  of  virtues,  130. 
The  order  in  which  moral  feelings 
are  developed,  130.  Danger  in 
proposing  too  absolutely  a single 
chiracter  as  a model  to  which  all 
moti  must  conform,  155.  Remarks 
ou  moral  types,  156.  Results  to 
b*  expected  from  the  study  of  the 


NOL 

relations  between  our  physical  and 
moral  nature,  158.  Little  influ- 
ence of  Pagan  religions  on  morals, 
161 

More,  Henry,  on  the  motive  of  Virtuo, 

i.  76 

Musonius,  his  suicide,  i.  220 
Mutius,  history  of  him  and  his  son 

ii.  125 

Mysticism  of  the  Romans,  causes 
producing,  i.  318 
Myths,  formation  of,  :.  351 


APLES,  mania  for  suicide  at,  ii. 
55 

Napoleon,  the  Emperor,  his  order  of 
the  day  respecting  suicide,  l.  219, 
note 

Nations,  causes  of  the  difficulties  of 
effecting  cordial  international 
friendships,  i.  156 
Natural  moral  perceptions,  objec 
tions  to  the  theory  of,  i.  116. 
Two  senses  of  the  word  natural, 
118.  Reid,  Sedgwick,  and  Leib- 
nitz on  the  natural  or  innate 
powers  of  man,  121,  note.  Locke’s 
refutation  of  the  doctrine  of  a 
natural  moral  sense,  124 
Neopiatonism,  account  of,  i.  325. 
Its  destruction  of  the  active 
duties  and  critical  spirit,  329 
Neptune,  views  of  the  Stoics  of  the 
meaning  of  the  legends  of,  i.  163. 
His  statue  solemnly  degraded  bj 
Augustus,  169 

Nero,  his  singing  and  acting,  i.  259. 
His  law  about,  slaves,  307.  His 
persecution  of  the  Christians,  429 
Newmau,  Dr.,  on  venial  sin,  i.  Lll, 
and  note  on  pride,  ii.  188 
Nicodemus,  apocryphal  gospel  of,  ii. 
221 

Nilus,  St.,  deserts  his  family,  ii.  322 
Nitria,  number  of  anchorites  in  the 
desert  of,  ii.  1 05 

Nolasco,  Peter,  his  works  of  mercy, 


391 


INDEX. 


NOV 

ii.  73.  His  participation  in  the 
Albigensian  massacres,  95 
Novatians,  their  tenets,  ii.  102 
Numa,  legend  of  his  prohibition  of 
idols,  i.  1 66,  note 


OATH,  sanctity  of  an,  among  the 
Romans,  i.  168 

Obedience,  new  value  placod  on  it 
by  monachism,  ii.  185,  186,  269 
Obligation,  nature  of,  i.  64,  65 
Ockham,  his  opinion  of  the  founda- 
tion of  the  moral  law,  i.  17,  and 
note 

Odin,  his  suicide,  ii.  53 
O'Neale,  Shane,  his  charity,  ii.  96 
Opinion,  influence  of  character  on, 

i.  171,  172 

Oracles,  refuted  and  ridiculed  by 
Cicero,  i.  165.  Plutarch’s  defence 
of  their  bad  poetry,  165,  note. 
Refusal  of  Cato  and  the  Stoics  to 
consult  them,  165.  Ridiculed  by 
the  Roman  wits.  166.  Answer 
of  the  oracle  of  Delphi  as  to  the 
best  religion,  167.  Theory  of  the 
oracles  in  the  ‘Do  Divinatione’ 
of  Cicero,  368,  and  note.  Van 
Dale’s  denial  of  their  supernatural 
character,  374.  Books  of  oracles 
burnt  under  the  republic  and 
empire,  447,  and  note 
Origen,  his  desire  for  martyrdom,  i. 
391 

Orphanotrophia,  in  the  early  Church, 
ii.  32 

Otho,  the  Emperor,  his  suicide,  i. 
219.  Opinion  of  his  contempo- 
raries of  his  act,  219,  note 
Ovid,  object  of  his  • Metamorphoses,’ 
i.  166.  His  condemnation  of 
suicide,  213,  and  note.  His  hu- 
manity to  animals,  ii.  1 65 
(Ken,  laws  for  the  protection  of,  ii. 
162 

Oxyrinchus,  ascetic  life  in  the  city 
of,  ii.  105 


PAT 

PACHOMIUS,  St.,  number  of  his 
monks,  ii.  105 

Pgetus  and  Arria,  history  of,  ii.  310 
Pagan  religions,  their  feeble  influ- 
ence on  morals,  i.  161 
Pagan  virtues,  the,  compared  with 
Christian,  i.  190 

Paiderastia,  the,  of  the  Greeks,  ii. 
294 

Pain,  equivalent  to  evil,  according 
to  the  Utilitarians,  i.  8,  note 
Palestine,  foundation  of  monachism 
in,  ii.  106.  Becomes  a hot-bed  of 
debauchery,  152 

Paley,  on  the  obligation  of  virtue,  i. 
14,  note.  On  the  difference  be- 
tween an  act  of  prudence  and  an 
act  of  duty,  16,  note.  On  the 
love  we  ought  to  bear  to  God,  1 8, 
note.  On  the  religious  sanctions 
of  morality,  19.  On  the  doctrine 
of  association,  25,  note.  On  flesh 
diet,  49,  note.  On  the  influence 
of  health  on  happiness,  88,  note. 
On  the  difference  in  pleasures,  90, 
note 

Pambos,  St.,  story  of,  ii.  116,  note 
Pammachus,  St.,  his  hospital,  ii.  86 
Pansetius,  the  founder  of  tho  Roman 
Stoics,  his  disbelief  in  the  immor- 
tality of  the  soul,  i.  183 
Pandars,  punishment  of,  ii.  316 
Parents,  reason  why  some  savages 
did  not  regard  their  murder  as 
criminal,  i.  101 

Parthenon,  the,  at  Athens,  i.  105 
Pascal,  his  advocacy  of  piety  as  a 
matter  of  prudence,  i.  17,  note. 
His  adherence  to  the  opinion  of 
Ockham  as  to  the  foundation  of 
the  moral  law,  17,  note.  IT  is 
thought  on  the  humiliation  created 
by  deriving  pleasure  from  certain 
amusements,  i.  86,  note 
Patriotism,  period  when  it  flourished, 
i.  136.  Peculiar  characteristic  of 
the  virtue,  177,  178.  Causes  of 
the  predominance  occasionally  ac- 


INDEX. 


395 


PAU 

corded  to  civic  virtues,  200.  Neg- 
lect or  discredit  into  which  they 
have  fallen  among  modern  teach- 
ers, 201.  Cicero’s  remarks  on  the 
duty  of  every  good  man.  201. 
Unfortunate  relations  of  Chris- 
tianity to  patriotism,  ii.  140.  Re- 
pugnance of  the  theological  to 
the  patriotic  spirit,  145 
Paul.  St.,  his  definition  of  conscience, 

i.  83 

Paul,  the  hermit,  his  flight  to  the 
desert,  ii.  102.  Legend  of  the 
visit  of  St.  Antony  to  him,  158 
Paul,  St.  Vincent  de,  his  foundling  j 
hospitals,  ii.  34 

Paula,  story  of  her  asceticism  and 
inhumanity,  ii.  133,  134 
Paulina,  her  devotion  to  her  hus- 
band, ii.  310 

Pelagia,  St.,  her  suicide,  ii.  4(3. 
Her  flight  to  the  desert,  121,  and 
note 

Pelagius,  ii.  223 

Pelican,  legend  of  the,  ii.  161 

Penances  of  the  saints  of  the  desert, 

ii.  107,  >t  seq. 

Penitential  system,  the,  of  the  early 
church,  ii.  6,  7 

Pepin,  his  compact  with  Pope  Leo, 
ii.  267 

Peregrinus  the  Cynic,  his  suicide,  i. 
220 

Pericles,  his  humanity',  i.  228 
Perpetua,  St.,  her  martyrdom,  i. 
391,  444  ; ii.  317 

Persecutions.  Catholic  doctrines  jus- 
tifying, i.  98.  Why  Christianity 
was  not  crushed  by  them,  395. 
Many  causes  of  persecution,  395- 
397-  Reasons  tv hy  the  Christians 
were  more  persecuted  than  the 
Jews,  403,  406,  407.  Causes  of 
the  persecutions,  406,  ct  seq.  His- 
tory of  the  persecutions,  429. 
Nero,  429.  Domitian.  431.  Tra- 
jan. 437.  Marcus  Aurelius.  439, 
440.  From  M.  Aurelius  to 


PIR 

Decius,  442,  et  seq.  Callus,  454. 
Valerian,  454.  Diocletian  and 
Galerius,  458-463.  End  of  the 
persecutions,  463.  General  con- 
siderations on  their  history,  463- 
468 

Petronian  law,  in  favour  of  slaves, 
i.  307 

Pet.ronius,  his  scepticism,  i.  162. 
His  suicide,  215.  His  condemna- 
tion of  the  show  of  the  arena,  28G 

Philip  the  Arab,  his  favour  to  Chris- 
tianity, i.  445 

Philosophers,  efforts  of  some,  to 
restore  the  moral  influence  of 
religion  among  the  Romans,  i. 
169.  The  true  moral  teachers. 
171 

Philosoph’cal  truth,  eharacteris'ies 
of,  i.  139,  140.  Its  growth  re- 
tarded by  the  opposition  of  theo- 
logians, 140 

Philosophy,  causes  of  the  practical 
character  of  most  ancient,  i.  2o2. 
Its  fusion  with  religion,  352. 
Opinions  of  the  early  Church  con- 
cerning the  pagan  writings,  332. 
Difference  between  the  moral 
teaching  of  a philosophy  and  that 
of  a religion,  ii.  1.  Its  impotency 
to  restrain  vice,  4 

Phocas,  attitude  of  the  Church  to- 
wards him,  ii.  263 

Phocion,  his  gentleness,  i.  228 

Physical  science  affects  the  l-elief  in 
miracles,  i.  354,  355 

Piety,  utilitarian  view  of  the  causes 
of  the  pleasures  and  pains  of,  i.  9, 
and  note.  A matter  of  prudence, 
according  to  theological  Utilita- 
rianism, 1 6 

Pilate,  Pontius,  story  of  his  desire 
to  enrol  Christ  among  the  Roman 
gods,  i.  429 

Pilgrimages,  evils  of,  ii.  152 

Pior,  St.,  story  of,  ii.  129 

Pirates,  destruction  of,  by  Pomp 
i.  234 


396 


INDEX. 


PIT 

Pity,  a form  of  self-love,  according 
to  some  Utilitarians,  i.  9,  10,  note. 
Adam  Smith’s  theory,  10,  note. 
Seneca’s  distinction  between  it 
and  clemency,  189.  Altar  to 
Pity  at  Athens,  228.  History  of 
Marcus  Aurelius’  altar  to  Benefi- 
centia  at  Rome,  228,  note 
Plato,  his  admission  of  the  practice 
of  abortion,  i.  92.  Basis  of  his 
moral  system,  105.  Cause  of  the 
banishment  of  the  poets  from  his 
republic,  161,  162.  His  theory 
that  vice  is  to  virtue  what  disease 
is  to  health,  179,  and  note.  Rea- 
son for  his  advocacy  of  community 
of  wives,  200.  His  condemnation 
of  suicide,  212,  and  note.  His  re 
marks  on  universal  brotherhood, 
241.  His  inculcation  of  the  prac- 
tice of  self-examination,  2 18 
Platonic  school,  its  ideal,  i.  322 
Platonists,  their  more  or  less  pan- 
theistic conception  of  the  Deity, 
l.  163.  Practical  nature  of  their 
philosophy,  329.  The  Platonic 
ethics  ascendant  in  Rome,  331 
Pleasure  the  only  good,  according  to 
the  Utilitarians,  i.  7.  Illustra- 
tions of  the  distinction  between 
the  higher  and  lower  parts  of  our 
nature  in  our  pleasures,  83-85. 
Pleasures  of  a civilised  compared 
with  those  of  a semi-civilised 
society,  86.  Comparison  of  men- 
tal and  physical  pleasures,  87, 
88.  Distinction  in  kind  of  plea- 
sure, and  its  importance  in  morals, 
89-91.  Neglected  or  denied  by 
Utilitarian  writers,  89,  note 
Pliny,  the  elder,  on  the  probable 
happiness  of  the  lower  animals, 
i.  87,  note.  On  the  Deity,  164. 
On  astrology,  171,  and  note,  164, 
note.  His  disbelief  in  the  im- 
mortality of  the  soul,  182.  His 
advocacy  of  suicide,  215.  Never 
mentions  Christianity,  336.  His 


POt 

opinion  of  earthquakes,  369.  And 
of  comets,  369.  His  facility  of 
belief,  370.  His  denunciation  of 
finger  rings,  ii.  148 

Pliny,  the  younger,  his  desire  fur 
posthumous  reputation,  i.  185, 
note.  His  picture  of  the  ideal  of 
Stoicism,  186.  His  letter  to 
Trajan  respecting  the  Christians, 
437.  His  benevolence,  242;  ii.  77 

Plotinus,,  his  condemnation  of  sui- 
cide, i.  214.  His  philosophy, 
330 

Plutarch,  his  defence  of  the  l^ad 
poetry  of  the  oracles,  165,  note. 
His  mode  of  moral  teaching,  175. 
Basis  of  his  belief  in  the  immor- 
tality of  the  soul,  204.  On  super- 
stitious fear  of  death,  206.  His 
letter  on  the  death  of  his  little 
daughter,  242.  May  justly  be  re- 
garded as  the  leader  of  the  eclectic 
school,  243.  His  philosophy  and 
works  compared  with  those  of 
Seneca,  243.  His  treatise  on 
‘The  Signs  of  Moral  Progress,’ 
249.  Compared  and  contrasted 
with  Marcus  Aurelius,  253.  How 
he  regarded  the  games  of  the 
arena,  286.  His  defence  of  the 
ancient  creeds,  322.  Practical 
nature  of  his  philosophy,  329. 
Never  mentions  Christianity,  336. 
His  remarks  on  tne  domestic 
system  of  the  ancients,  419.  On 
kindness  to  animals,  ii.  165,  16r>. 
His  picture  of  Greek  married 
life,  289 

Pluto,  meaning  of,  according  to  the 
Stoics,  i.  163 

Po,  miracle  of  the  subsidence  of  the 
waters  of  the,  i.  382,  note 

Peemen,  St.,  story  of,  and  of  his 
mother,  ii.  129.  Legend  of  him 
and  the  lion,  169 

Political  economy,  what  it  has  ac- 
complished respecting  almsgiving, 
ii.  90 


INDEX. 


397 


POL 

Political  judgments,  moral  standard 
of  most  men  in,  lower  than  in 
private  judgments,  i.  151 
Political  truth,  or  habit  of  ‘fair 
play,’  the  characteristic  of  frco 
communities,  i.  139.  Highly 
civilised  form  of  society  to  which 
it  belongs.  139.  Its  growth  re- 
tarded by  the  opposition  of  theo- 
logians, 140 

Polybius,  his  praise  of  the  devotion 
and  purity  of  creed  of  the  Romans, 

i.  167 

Polycarp,  St.,  martyrdom  of,  i.  441 
Polygamy,  long  continuance  of, 
among  the  kings  of  Gaul,  ii.  343 
Pompeii,  gladiatorial  shows  at,  i. 
276,  note 

Pompey,  his  destruction  of  the 
pirates,  i.  234.  His  multiplica- 
tion of  gladiatorial  shows,  273 
Poor-law  system,  elaboration  of  the, 

ii.  96.  Its  pernicious  results,  97, 
99,  105 

Poppsea,  Empress,  a Jewish  prose- 
lyte, i.  386 

Porcia,  heroism  of,  ii.  309 
Porphyry,  his  condemnation  of  sui- 
cides, i.  214.  His  description  of 
philosophy,  i.  326.  His  adoption 
of  Neoplatonism,  i.  330 
Possevin,  his  exposure  of  the  Sibyl- 
line books,  i.  377 
Pothinus,  martj-rdom  of,  i.  442 
Power,  origin  of  the  desire  of,  i.  23, 
2d 

Praise,  association  of  ideas  leading 
to  the  desire  for  even  posthumous, 
i.  26 

Prayer,  reflex  influence  upon  the 
minds  of  the  worshippers,  i.  36 
Preachers,  Stoic,  among  the  Romans, 

i.  308,  309 

Pride,  contrasted  with  vanity,  i.  195. 
The  leading  moral  agent  of  Stoi- 
cism, i.  195 

Prometheus,  cause  of  the  admiration 
bestowed  upon,  i.  35 


REI 

Prophecies,  incapacity  of  the  Chris- 
t.ans  of  tho  third  century  for 
judging  prophecies,  i.  37 6 
Prophecy,  gift  of,  attributed  to  tlio 
vestal  virgins  of  Rome,  i.  107. 
And  in  India  to  virgins,  107, 
note 

Prosperity,  somo  crimes  conducive 
to  national,  i 58 

Prostitution,  ii.  282-286.  How  re- 
garded by  the  Romans,  314 
Protagoras,  his  scepticism,  i.  162 
Protasius,  St.,  miraculous  discovery 
of  his  remains,  i.  379 
Prudentius,  on  the  vestal  virgins  at 
the  gladiatorial  shows,  i.  291 
Purgatory,  doctrine  of,  ii.  232-235 
Pythagoras,  saying  of,  i.  53.  Chastity 
the  leading  virtue  of  his  school. 
106.  On  the  fables  of  Hesiod 
and  Homer,  161.  His  belief  in 
an  all-pervading  soul  of  nature, 
162.  His  condemnation  of  sui- 
cide, 212.  Tradition  of  his  jour- 
ney to  India,  229,  note.  His  in- 
culcation of  the  practice  of  self- 
examination,  218.  His  opinion 
of  earthquakes,  369.  His  doctrine 
of  kindness  to  animals,  ii.  165 


QUAKERS,  compared  with  the 
early  Christians,  ii.  12,  and 
note 

Quintilian,  his  conception  of  the 
Deity,  i.  164 


ANK,  secular,  consecration  of,  ii. 
260,  et  seq 
Rape,  punishment  for,  ii.  316 
Redbreast,  legend  of  the,  ii.  224, 
note 

Regulus,  the  story  of,  i.  212 
Reid,  basis  of  his  ethics,  i.  76.  His 
distinction  between  innate  facul- 
ties evolved  by  experience  and 


398 


INDEX. 


REL 

innate  ideas  independent  of  expe- 
rience, 121,  note 

Religion,  theological  utilitarianism 
subverts  natural,  i.  54-56.  An- 
swer of  the  oracle  of  Delphi  as  to 
the  best,  167.  Difference  between 
the  moral  teaching  of  a philoso- 
phy and  that  of  a religion,  ii.  1. 
Relations  between  positive  reli- 
gion and  moral  enthusiasm,  111 

Religions,  pagan,  their  small  influ- 
ence on  morals,  i,  161.  Oriental, 
passion  for,  among  the  Romans, 
318 

R-ligious  liberty  totally  destroyed 
by  the  Catholics,  ii.  194-199 

Repentance  for  past  sin,  no  place 
for,  in  the  writings  of  fllie  an- 
cients, i.  195 

Reputation,  how  valued  among  the 
Romans,  i.  185,  186 

Resurrection  of  souls,  belief  of  the 
Stoics  in  the,  i.  164 

Revenge,  Utilitarian  notions  as  to 
the  feeling  of,  i.  41,  and  note. 
Circumstances  under  which  pri- 
vate vengeance  is  not  regarded  as 
criminal,  i.  101 

Reverence,  Utilitarian  views  of,  i.  9, 
and  note.  Causes  of  the  diminu- 
tion of  the  spirit  of,  among  man- 
kind, 141,  142 

Rhetoricians,  Stoical,  account  of  the, 
of  Rome,  i.  310 

Ricci,  his  work  on  Mendicancy,  ii. 
98 

Rochefoucauld  La,  on  pity,  quoted, 
i.  10.  note.  And  on  friendship, 
10,  11,  note 

Rogantianus,  his  passive  life,  i.  330 

Roman  law,  its  golden  age  not 
Christian,  but  pagan,  ii.  42 

Rrimans,  abortion  how  regarded  by 
the,  i.  92.  Their  law  forbidding 
women  to  taste  wine,  93,  94,  note. 
Reasons  why  they  did  not  regard 
the  gladiatorial  shows  as  criminal, 
101.  Their  law  of  marriage  and 


ROM 

idea]  of  female  morality,  104 
Their  religious  reverence  for  do- 
mesticity, 106.  Sanctity  of.  and 
gifts  attributed  to,  their  vestal 
virgins,  106.  Character  of  tlift 
cruelty,  134.  Compared  with  the 
modern  Italian  character  in  this 
respect,  134.  Scepticism  of  their 
philosophers,  162-167.  The  re- 
ligion of  the  Romans  never  a 
source- of  moral  enthusiasm,  167. 
Its  characteristics,  168.  Causes 
of  the  disappearance  of  the  reli- 
gious reverence  of  the  people, 
169.  Efforts  of  some  philoso- 
phers and  emperors  to  restore  the 
moral  influence  of  religion,  169. 
Consummation  of  Roman  degra- 
dation, 170.  Belief  in  astrologi- 
cal fatalism,  170,  171-  The 
stoical  type  of  military  and  pa- 
triotic enthusiasm  pre-eminently 
Roman,  172-174, 1 78.  Importance 
of  biography  in  their  moral  teach- 
ing, 178.  Epicureanism  never 
became  a school  of  virtue 
among  them,  175.  Unselfish  love 
of  country  of  the  Romans,  178. 
Character  of  Stoicism  in  the  worst 
period  of  the  Roman  Empire,  181. 
Main  features  of  their  philosophy, 
185,  et  scq.  Difference  between 
the  Roman  moralists  and  the 
Greek  poets,  195.  The  doctrine 
of  suicide  the  culminating  point 
of  Roman  Stoicism,  222.  The 
type  of  excellence  of  the  Roman 
people,  224,  225.  Contrast,  be- 
tween the  activity  of  Sioicism  and 
the  luxury  of  Roman  society,  225, 

226.  Growth  of  a gentler  and 
more  cosmopolitan  spirit  in  Rome, 

227.  Causes  of  this  change,  22?, 
ct  scq.  Extent  of  Greek  influence 
at  Rome,  228.  The  cosmopolitan 
spirit  strengthened  by  the  de- 
struction of  the  power  of  the 
aristocracy,  231,  232.  History 


INDEX. 


399 


sou 

of  the  influence  of  freedmen  in 
the  state,  233.  Effect  of  the 
aggrandisement  of  the  colonies, 
the  attraction  of  many  foreigners 
to  Home,  and  the  increased  facili- 
ties for  travelling,  on  the  cos- 
mopolitan spirit,  233,  et  seq. 
Foreigners  among  the  most 
prominent  of  Latin  writers,  235. 
Results  of  the  multitudes  of 
emancipated  slaves,  235,  236. 
Endeavours  of  Homan  statesmen 
to  consolidate  the  empire  by  ad- 
mitting the  conquered  to  the 
privileges  of  the  conquerors,  238. 
The  Stoical  philosophy  quite 
capable  of  representing  the  cos- 
mopolitan spirit,  239.  Influence 
of  eclectic  philosophy  on  the  Ro- 
man Stoics,  214.  Life  and  cha- 
racter of  Marcus  Aurelius,  249- 

255.  Corruption  of  the  Roman 
people,  255.  Causes  of  their  de- 
pravity, 256.  Decadence  of  all 
the  conditions  of  republican  virtue, 

256.  Effects  of  the  Imperial 
system  on  morals,  257-261.  Apo- 
theosis of  the  emperors,  257. 
Moral  consequences  of  slavery, 
262.  Increase  of  idleness  and 
demoralising  employments,  262. 
Increase  also  of  sensuadty,  263. 
Destruction  of  all  public  spirit, 
264.  The  interaction  of  many 
states  which  in  new  nations  sus- 
tains national  life  prevented  by 
universal  empire,  264.  The  de- 
cline of  agricultural  pursuits,  265. 
And  of  the  military  virtues,  268. 
History  and  effects  of  the  gladia- 
torial shows,  271.  Other  Roman 
amusements,  276.  Effects  of  the 
arena  upon  the  theatre,  277. 
Nobles  in  the  arena,  283.  Effects 
of  Stoicism  on  the  corruption  of 
society,  291.  Roman  law  greatly 
extended  by  it,  294.  Change  in 
the  relation  of  Romans  to  pro- 


K051 

vincials,  297.  Changes  in  domestic 
legislation,  297.  Roman  slavery, 
3U0-308.  The  Stoics  as  consolers, 
advisers,  and  preachers,  308.  The 
Cynics  and  rhetoricians,  309,  310. 
Decadence  of  Stoicism  in  the  em- 
pire, 317.  Causes  of  the  passion 
for  Oriental  religions,  318-320. 
Neoplatonism,  325.  Review  of 
the  history  of  Roman  philosophy, 
332-335.  History  of  the  conver- 
sion of  Rome  to  Christianity,  336. 
State  of  Roman  opinion  on  the 
subject  of  miracles,  365.  Pro- 
gress of  the  Jewish  and  Oriental 
religions  in  Rome,  386,  3S7.  The 
conversion  of  the  Roman  empire 
easily  explicable,  393.  Review 
of  the  religious  policy  of  Rome, 
397.  Its  division  of  religion  into 
three  parts,  according  to  Eusebius, 
403  Persecutions  of  the  Chris- 
tians, 406,  et  seq.  Antipathy  of 
the  Romans  to  every  religions 
system  which  employed  religious 
terrorism,  420.  History  of  the  per- 
secutions, 429.  General  sketch  of 
the  moral  condition  of  the  Western 
Empire,  ii.  14.  Rise  and  progress 
of  the  government  of  the  Church 
of  Rome,  14,  15.  Roman  prac- 
tice of  infanticide.  27.  Relief 
of  the  indigent,  73.  Distribu- 
tion of  corn,  74.  Exertions  of 
the  Christians  on  the  subversion 
of  the  empire,  82.  Inadequate 
place  given  to  this  movement,  85. 
Horrors  caused  by  the  barbarian 
invasions  prevented  to  some  ex- 
tent by  Christian  charity,  81-84. 
Influence  of  Christianity  in 
hastening  the  fall  of  the  empire, 
140,  141.  Roman  treatment  of 
prisoners  of  war,  256-258.  Des- 
potism of  the  pagan  empire,  260. 
Condition  of  women  under  the 
Romans,  297-  Their  concubines, 
350 


400 


INDEX. 


ROM 

Rome,  an  illustration  ut  crimes  con- 
ducive to  national  prosperity,  i.  58, 
note.  Conversion  of,  336.  Three 
popular  errors  concerning  its  con- 
version. 339.  Capture  of  the 
city  by  the  barbarians,  ii.  82 

Romuald,  St.,  his  treatment  of  his 
father,  ii.  135 

Rope-dancing  of  the  Romans,  i. 
291 


SABINUS,  Saint,  his  penances,  ii. 
108 

Sacrament,  administration  of  the,  in 
the  early  Church,  ii.  6 
Salamis,  Brutus’  treatment  of  the 
citizens  of,  i,  194 

Sallust,  his  stoicism  and  rapacity,  i. 
194 

Sanctuary,  right  of,  accorded  to 
Christian  churches,  ii.  40 
Savage,  errors  into  which  the  de- 
ceptive appearances  of  nature 
doom  him,  i.  54.  First  concep- 
tions formed  of  the  universe,  349. 
The  ethics  of  savages,  120,  121 
Scepticism  of  the  Oreek  and  Roman 
philosophers,  i.  162-166.  In- 
fluence of,  on  intellectuid  progress, 
ii.  193 

Scholastiea,  St.,  the  legend  of,  ii. 
1 36,  note 

Seifi,  Clara,  the  first  Franciscan  nun, 
ii.  135 

Sectarian  animosity,  chief  cause  of, 
i.  134 

Sedgwick,  Professor,  on  the  expan- 
sion of  the  natural  or  innate 
powers  of  men,  i.  121,  note 
Sejanus,  treatment  of  his  daughter 
by  the  senate,  i.  107,  note 
Self-denial,  the  Utilitarian  theory 
unfavourable  to,  i.  66 
Self-examination,  history  of  the 
practice  of,  i.  247-249 
Self-sacrifice,  asceticism  the  great 
school  of,  ii.  155 


SEE 

Senpca,  his  conception  of  the  Deity, 
i.  163,  note,  164.  His  distinction 
betwpon  the  affections  and 
diseases,  1S9,  note.  And  between 
clemency  and  pity,  189.  Hie 
virtues  and  vices,  i.  194.  Ob 
the  natural  virtue  of  man  and 
power  of  his  will,  197.  On  the 
Sacred  Spirit  dwelling  in  man,  198, 
On  death,  205.  His  tranquil  end. 
207.  Advocates  suicide,  213, 
220.  His  description  of  the  self- 
destruction  of  a friend,  222.  His 
remarks  on  universal  brotherhood. 
241.  His  stoical  hardness  tempered 
by  new  doctrines,  244.  His  prac 
tice  of  self-examination,  248.  His 
philosophy  and  works  compared 
with  those  of  Plutarch,  243,  244. 
How  he  regarded  thegamesof the 
arena,  286.  His  exhortations  ok 
the  treatment  of  slaves,  306. 
Never  mentions  Christianity,  336. 
Regarded  in  the  middle  ages  as  a 
Christian,  340.  On  religious  be- 
liefs, 405 

Sensuality,  why  the  Mohammedans 
people  Paradise  with  images  of,  i. 
108.  Why  some  pagans  deified  it, 
108.  Fallacy  of  judging  the  sen- 
suality of  a nation  by  the  statis- 
tics of  its  illegitimate  births,  114. 
Influence  of  climate  upon  public 
morals,  144.  Of  large  towns,  145. 
And  of  early  marriages.  146.  Ab- 
sence of  moral  scandals  among  the 
Irish  priesthood,  146,  147.  Speech 
of  Archytas  of  Tarentum  on  'lit 
evils  of,  200,  note.  Increase  ol 
sensuality  in  Rome,  263.  Abated 
by  Christianity,  ii.  153.  Tin 
doctrine  of  the  Fathers  respecting 
concupiscence,  281. 

Serapion,  the  anthropomorphil  e,  i. 
52.  Number  of  his  monks,  ii, 
105.  His  interview  with  tlia 
courtesan,  320 


INDEX. 


401 


SEE 

Snrtorius,  his  forgery  of  auspicious 
omens,  i.  166. 

Severus,  Alexander,  refuses  the  lan- 
guage of  adulation,  i.  259.  His 
efforts  to  restore  agricultural  pur- 
suits, 267.  Murder  of,  414.  His 
leniency  towards  Christianity, 
444.  His  benevolence,  ii.  77  ■ 
Severus,  Cassius,  exile  of,  i.  448,  note 
Severus,  Septimus,  his  treatment  of 
the  Christians,  i.  443 
Sexti  us,  his  practice  of  self-examina- 
tion, i.  248 

Shaftesbury,  maintains  the  reality 
of  the  existence  of  benevolence  in 
our  nature,  i.  20.  On  virtue,  76,  77 
Sibylline  books,  forged  by  the  early 
Christians,  i.  376,  377 
Silius  Italieus,  his  lines  commemo- 
rating the  passion  of  the  Spanish 
Celts  for  suicide,  i.  207,  note. 
Ilis  self-destruction,  221 
Silvia,  her  filthiness,  ii.  110 
Simeon,  Bishop  of  Jerusalem,  his 
martyrdom,  i.  438 

Simeon  Stylites,  St.,  his  penance,  ii. 
111.  His  inhumanity  to  his 
parents,  ii.  130 

Sin,  the  theological  doctrine  on  the 
subject,  i.  Ill,  112.  Conception 
of  sin  by  the  ancients,  195.  Origi- 
nal, taught  by  the  Catholic 
Church,  209,  210.  Examination 
of  the  Utilitarian  doctrine  of  the 
remote  consequences  of  secret 
sins,  43,  44 

Sisoes,  the  abbot,  stories  of,  ii.  126, 
127 

Sixtus,  Bishop  of  Rome,  his  martyr- 
dom, i.  455 

Sixtus  V.,  Pope,  his  efforts  to  sup- 
press mendicancy,  ii.  97 
Slavery,  circumstances  under  which 
it  has  been  justified,  i.  101.  Ori- 
gin of  the  word  servus,  102,  note. 
Crusade  of  England  against,  153. 
Character  of  that  of  the  Romans, 
235.  Moral  eonsequeneeof  slavery, 


SPA 

262.  Three  stages  oi  slavery  at 
Rome,  300.  Review  of  the  con- 
dition of  slaves,  300-306.  Opinion 
of  philosophers  as  to  slavery,  306. 
Laws  enacted  in  favour  of  slaves, 
308.  Effects  of  Christianity  upon 
the  institution  of  slavery,  ii.  61. 
Consecration  of  the  servile  virtues, 
68.  Impulse  given  to  manumis- 
sion, 70-  Serfdom  in  Europe,  70, 
71,  note.  Extinction  of  slavery 
in  Europe,  71.  Ransom  of  cap- 
tives, 72 

Smith,  Adam,  his  theory  of  pity, 
quoted,  i.  10,  vote.  His  recogni- 
tion of  the  reality  of  benevolence 
in  our  nature,  2o.  His  analysis 
of  moral  judgment,  76 
Smyrna,  persecution  of  the  Christ’ ans 
at,  i.  441 

Socrates,  his  view  of  death,  i.  305. 
His  closing  hours,  207.  His  advice 
to  a courtesan,  ii.  296 
Soul,  the  immortality  of  the,  reso- 
lutely excluded  from  the  teaching 
of  the  Stoics,  i.  181.  Character 
of  their  first  notions  on  the  sub- 
ject, 182.  The  belief  in  the  reab- 
sorption of  the  soul  in  the  parent 
Spirit,  183.  Belief  of  Cicero  and 
Plutarch  in  the  immortality  of  the 
204.  But  never  adopted  as  a mo- 
tive by  the  Stoics,  204.  Increasing 
belief  m the,  331.  Vague  belief 
of  the  Romans  in  the,  168 
Sospitra,  story  of,  i.  373 
Spain,  persecution  of  the  Christians 
in,  i.  461.  Almost  complete  ab- 
sence of  infanticide  in,  ii.  25,  note. 
The  first  lunatic  asylumsin  Europe 
established  in,  89,  90 
Spaniards,  among  the  most  prominent 
of  Latin  writers,  i.  235.  Their  sui- 
cides, ii.  54 

Spartans,  their  intense  patriotism,  i. 
178.  Their  legislature  continually 
extolled  as  a model,  201.  Condi 
tion  of  their  women,  ii.  290 


402 


INDEX. 


SPX 

Spinoza,  liis  remark  on  death,  i.  203 
Anecdote  of  him,  289 

Stael,  Madame  de,  on  suicide,  ii.  59 

Statius,  on  the  first  night  of  mar- 
riage, i.  107,  note 

Stewart,  Dugald,  on  the  pleasures 
of  virtue,  i.  32,  not/: 

Stilpo,  his  scepticism  and  banish- 
ment, i.  162.  His  remark  on  his 

ruin,  191. 

Stoics,  their  definition  of  conscience, 
i.  83.  Their  view  of  the  anima- 
tion of  the  human  feetus,  92. 
Their  system  of  ethics  favourable 
to  the  heroic  qualities,  128.  His- 
torical fact  in  favour  of  the 
system,  128.  Their  belief  in  an 
all-pervading  soul  of  nature  162. 
Their  pantheistic  conception  of 
the  Deity,  163.  Their  conception 
and  explanation  of  the  prevailing 
legends  of  the  gods,  163.  Their 
opinion  as  to  the  final  destruction 
of  the  universe  by  fire,  and  the 
resuscitation  of  souls,  161.  Their 
refusal  to  consult  the  oracles,  165. 
Stoicism  the  expression  of  a type 
of  character  different  from  Epicu- 
reanism, 172.  Rome  pre-eminently 
the  home  of  Stoicism,  172.  Ac- 
count of  the  philosophy  of  the 
Stoics,  177-  Its  two  essentials  — 
the  unselfish  ideal  and  the  sub- 
jugation of  the  affections  to  the 
reason,  177.  The  best  example  of 
the  perfect  severance  of  virtue  and 
interest,  181.  Their  views  con- 
cerning the  immortality  of  the 
soul,  182-184.  Taught  men  to 
sacrifice  reputation,  and  do  good  in 
secret,  186.  And  distinguished 
the  otiligation  from  the  attraction 
cf  virtue,  186.  Taught  also  that 
(lie  affections  must  be  subordinate 
to  tho  reason,  187-191.  Their 
false  estimate  of  human  nature, 
192.  Their  love  of  paradox,  192. 
Imperfect  lives  of  many  eminent 


STO 

Stoics,  193.  Their  retrospective 
tendencies,  193.  Their  system  un 
fitted  for  the  majority  of  mankind, 
194.  Compared  with  the  religious 
principle,  195.  The  central  com- 
position of  this  philosophy,  the 
dignity  of  man,  195.  High  sense 
of  the  Stoics  ot  the  natural  virtue 
of  man,  and  of  the  power  of  his 
will,  195,  196.  Their  recognition 
of  Providence,  196.  The  two  as- 
pects under  which  they  worshipped 
God,  198.  The  Stoics  secured 
from  quietism  by  their  habits 
of  public  life,  199-201.  Their 
view  of  humanity,  202.  Their  pre- 
parations for,  and  view'  of,  death, 
202.  Their  teaching  as  to  suicide, 
212.  13,  et  seq.  Contrast  be- 
tween Stoicism  and  Roman  luxury, 
225,  226.  The  Stoical  philosophy 
quite  capable  of  representing  the 
cosmopolitan  spirit,  239,  240. 

Stoicism  not  capable  of  represent- 
ing the  softening  movement  of 
civilisation,  241,  Influence  of  the 
eclectic  spirit  on  it,  244.  Stoicism 
becomes  mure  essentially  religious, 
215.  Increasingly  introspective 
character  of  later  Stoicism,  247. 
Marcus  Aurelius  the  best  example 
of  later  Stoicism,  249-255.  Effects 
of  Stoicism  on  the  corruption  of 
Roman  Society,  291,  292.  It 
raised  up  many  good  Emperors, 

292.  It  produced  a noble  opposi- 
tion under  the  worst  Emperors 

293.  It  greatly  extended  Romai 
law,  294.  The  Stoics  considered 
as  the  consolers  of  the  suffering 
advisers  of  the  young,  and  a 
popular  preachers,  308.  Rapii 
decadence  of  Stoicism.  317,  318 
Difference  between  the  Stoical  and 
Egyptian  pantheism,  32  l.  Stoica 
naturalism  superseded  by  tin 
theory  of  daemons,  331.  Theor; 
that  the  writings  of  the  Stoii 


INDEX. 


403 


STB 

vere  influenced,  by  Christianity 
examined,  332.  Domitian’s  per- 
secution of  them,  432 
btrozzi,  Philip,  his  suicide,  ii.  56 
buffering,  a courageous  endurance  of, 
probably  the  first  form  of  virtue 
in  savage  life,  i.  130 
ciuicide,  attitude  a 'opted  by  Pagan 
philosophy  and  Catholicism  to- 
wards, i.  211,  et  scq.  Eminent 
suicides,  215.  Epidemic  of  suicides 
at  Alexandria,  216.  And  of  girls 
at  Miletus,  216,  note.  Grandeur 
of  the  S oical  ideal  of  suicide,  216. 
Influences  conspiring  towards  sui- 
cide^ 17.  Seneca  on  self-destruc- 
tion, 217,  218,  220.  Laws  respect 
ing  it,  218,  note.  Eminent  in- 
stances of  self-destruction,  219, 
221.  The  conception  of,  as  an 
euthanasia,  221.  Neoplatonist 
doctrine  concerning,  331.  Effect 
of  the  Christian  condemnation  of 
the  practice  of,  ii.  43-61.  Theo 
logical  doctrine  on,  45,  note.  The 
only  form  of,  permitted  in  the 
early  Church,  47.  Slow  suicides, 
48  The  Circumcelliones,  49.  The 
Albigenses,  49.  Suicides  of  the 
Jews,  50.  Treatment  of  corpses 
of  suicides,  60.  Authorities  for 
the  history  of  suicides,  50,  note. 
Reaction  against  the  mediaeval 
laws  on  the  subject,  51.  Later 
phases  of  its  history,  54.  Self-de- 
struction of  witches,  51.  Epide- 
mics of  insane  suicide,  55.  Cases 
of  legitimate  suicide,  55.  Suicide 
in  England  and  France,  58 
Sunday,  importance  of  the  sanctity 
of  the,  ii.  241.  Laws  respecting 
it,  245 

Superstition,  possibility  of  adding  to 
the  happiness  of  man  by  the  dif- 
fusion of,  i.  50-53.  Natural  causes 
which  impel  savages  to  supersti- 
tion, i,  55.  Signification  of  the 
Greek  word  for,  205 


THE 

Swan,  the, consecrated  toxbpollo.i.  206 
Sweden,  cause  of  the  great  number 
of  illegitimate  births  in,  i.  144 
Swinburne,  Mr.,  on  annihilation,  i 
182,  note 

Symmaehus,  his  Saxon  prisoners,  i 
287 

Synesius,  legend  of  him  and  Eva- 
grius,  ii.  214.  Refuses  tt  give  np 
his  wife,  332 

Syracuse,  gladiatorial  shows  at,  i 
275 

tpACITUS,  his  doubts  about  the 
X existence  of  Providence,  i.  171, 
note 

Telemachus,  the  monk,  his  death  in 
the  arena,  ii.  37 

Telesphorus,  martyrdom  of,  i.  446, 
note 

Tertia  xEmilia,  story  of,  ii.  313 
Tertullian,  his  belief  in  daemons,  i. 
3s2.  And  challenge  to  the  Pagans, 
383 

Testament,  Old,  supposed  to  have 
been  the  source  of  pagan  writings, 
i.  341 

Thalasius,  his  hospital  for  blind  beg- 
gars, ii.  81 

Theatre,  scepticism  of  the  Romans 
extended  by  the,  i.  170.  Effects 
of  the  gladiatorial  shows  upon  the, 
277 

Theft,  reasons  why  some  savages  do 
not  regard  it  as  criminal,  i.  102. 
Spartan  law  legalising  it,  102 
Theodebert,  his  polygamy,  ii.  343 
Theodoric,  his  court  at  Ravenna,  ii. 
201,  202,  note 

Theodoras,  his  denial  of  the  exist- 
ence of  the  gods,  i.  162 
Theodoras,  St.,  his  inhumanity  to 
his  mother,  ii.  12S 
Theodosius  the  Emperor,  his  edict 
forbidding  gladiatorial  shows,  ii. 
36.  Denounced  by  the  Ascetics, 
139.  His  law  respecting  Sunday, 
245 


404: 


INDEX. 


THE 

Theological  utilitarianism,  theories 
of,  i.  14-17 

Theology,  sphere  of  inductive  rea- 
soning in,  857 

Tlieou,  St.,  legend  of,  and  the  wild 
beasts,  li.  168 

Theurgy  rejected  by  Plotinus,  i.  330. 
All  moral  discipline  resolved  into, 
by  lambliclrus,  330 

Thrace,  celibacy  of  societies  of  men 
in,  i.  106 

Thrasea,  mildness  of  his  Stoicism,  i. 
245 

Thrasea  and  Aria,  history  of,  ii.  311 

Thriftiness  created  by  the  industrial 
spirit,  i.  140 

Tiberius  the  Emperor,  his  images 
invested  with  a sacred  character, 

i.  260.  His  superstitions,  367, 
and  note 

Timagenes,  exiled  from  the  palace 
by  Tiberius,  i.  4 48,  note 

Titus,  the  Emperor,  his  tranquil 
end,  i.  207-  Instance  of  his 
amiability,  287 

Touth-powder,  Apuleius’  defence  of, 

ii.  148 

Torments,  future,  the  doctrine,  of, 
made  by  the  monks  a means  of 
extorting  money,  ii.  216.  Monas- 
tic legends  of,  220 

Tragedy,  effects  of  the  gladiatorial 
shows  upon,  among  the  Romans,  i. 
277 

Trajan,  the  Emperor,  his  gladiatorial 
shows,  i.  287-  Letter  of  Pliny  to, 
respecting  the  Christians,  437". 
Trajan’s  answer,  437.  His  benevo- 
lence to  children,  ii  77-  Legend 
of  St.  Gregory  and  the  Emperor, 
223 

Transmigration  of  souls,  doctrine  of, 
of  the  ancients,  ii.  166 

Travelling,  increased  facilities  for, 
of  the  Romans,  i.  234 

I, Unitarian  monks,  their  works  of 
incrcv  ii.  73 


VAR 

Troubadours,  one  of  their  services  ta 
mankind,  ii.  232 

‘ Truce  of  God,'  importance  of  the, 
ii.  254 

| Truth,  possibility  of  adding  to  tho 
happiness  of  men  by  diffusing 
abroad,  or  sustaining,  pleasing 
falsehoods,  i.  52.  Saying  of  Pytha- 
goras, 53.  Growth  of,  with  civili- 
sation, 137.  Industrial,  political, 
and  philosophical,  137-140.  Rela- 
tion of  monacliism  to  the  abstract 
love  of  truth,  ii.  189.  Causes  of 
the  mediaeval  decline  of  the  lovo 
of  truth,  212 

Tucker,  his  adoption  of  the  doctrine 
of  the  association  of  ideas,  i.  25, 
note 

Turks,  their  kindness  to  animals,  i. 
289 

Types,  moral,  i.  156.  All  charac- 
ters cannot  be  moulded  in  ono 
type,  158 

ULPIAN  on  suicide,  i.  218,  note 
Unselfishness  of  the  Stoics,  i. 
177 

Usury,  diversities  of  moral  judg- 
ment respecting,  i.  92 
Utilitarian  school.  See  Morals; 
Virtue ; Vice 

Utility,  rival  claims  of,  and  intuition 
to  be  regarded  as  the  supreme 
regulators  of  moral  distinctions,  i. 
1,  2.  Various  names  by  which 
the  theory  of  utility  is  known,  3. 
Views  of  the  moralists  of  the 
school  of,  3,  et  scq. 


T7ALERIAN,  his  persecutions  oi 
\ the  Christians,  i.  454 
Valerius  Maximus,  his  mode  of  moral 
teachiug,  i.  174 

Vandals,  their  conquest  of  Africa,  ii 
150 

Varro,  Ms  conception  of  the  Deity 


INDEX. 


405 


VEN 

i.  163.  On  popular  religious  be- 
liefs, 167 

Terras,  effect  of  the  Greek  worship 
of,  on  the  condition  of  women,  ii. 
291,  note 

Vespasian,  his  dying  jest,  i.  259. 
Effect  of  his  frugality  un  the 
habits  of  the  Romans,  292. 
Miracle  attributed  to  him,  347. 
His  treatment  of  philosophers, 
448,  note 

Vice,  Mandeville’s  theory  of  the 
origin  of,  i.  7.  And  that  ‘ private 
vices  were  public  benefits,’  7. 
Views  of  the  Utilitarians  as  to, 
12.  The  degrees  of  virtue  and 
vice  do  not  correspond  to  the 
degrees  of  utility,  or  the  reverse, 
40-42.  The  suffering  caused  by 
vice  not  proportioned  to  its  crimi- 
nality, 57-59.  Plato’s  ethical 
theory  of  virtue  and  vice,  179. 
Grote’s  summary  of  this  theory, 

] 79,  note.  Conception  of  the 
ancients  of  sin.  195.  Moral  effi- 
cacy of  the  Christian  sense  of 
sin,  ii.  3,  4 

V trgil,  his  conception  of  the  Deity, 
i.  163.  His  epicurean  sentiment, 
193,  note.  On  suicide,  213.  His 
interest  in  animal  life,  ii.  165 

Virginity,  how  regarded  by  the 
Greeks,  i.  105.  iEschylus’  prayer 
to  Athene,  105.  Bees  and  fire 
emblems  of  virginity,  108,  note. 
Reason  why  the  ancient,  Jews  at- 
tached a certain  stigma  to  vir- 
ginity, 109  Views  of  Essenes, 
109 

Virgins,  Vestal,  sanctity  and  gifts 
attributed  to  the,  i.  106,  107,  and 
note.  Executions  of,  407,  and 
note.  Reasons  for  burying  them  • 
alive,  ii.  41.  How  regarded  by 
the  Romans,  297 

Virtue,  Hume’s  theory  of  the  crite- 
rion, essential  element,  and  object 
of,  i.  4.  Motive  to  virtue  ac- 

58 


YIR 

cording  to  the  doctrine  which 
bases  morals  upon  experience,  6. 
Mandevi  lie’s  the  lowest  and 
most  repulsive  form  of  this 
theory,  6,  7-  Views  of  the  essence 
and  origin  of  virtue  adopted  by 
the  school  of  Utilitarians,  7-9. 
Views  of  the  Utilitarians  of,  12. 
Association  of  ideas  in  which 
virtue  becomes  the  supreme  object 
of  our  affections,  27.  Impossi- 
bility of  virtue  bringi  ng  pleasure  if 
practised  only  with  that  end,  35,  36. 
The  utility  of  virtue  not  denied 
by  intuitive  moralists,  39.  The 
degrees  of  virtue  and  vice  do  not 
correspond  to  the  degrees  of 
utility,  or  the  reverse,  53.  'The 
rewards  and  punishments  of  con 
science,  59,  60.  The  self-compla- 
cency of  virtuous  men,  64,  66,  and 
note.  The  motive  to  virtue,  ac 
cording  to  Shaftesbury  and  Henry 
More,  76.  Analogies  of  beauty 
and  virtue,  77.  Their  difference, 

78.  Diversities  existing  in  our 
judgments  of  virtue  and  beauty, 

79,  80.  Virtues  to  which  we  can 
and  cannot  apply  the  term  beauti- 
ful, 82.  The  standard,  though 
not  the  essence,  of  virtue,  deter- 
mined by  the  condition  of  society, 
109.  Summary  of  th6  relations 
of  virtue  to  public  and  private 
interest,  117-  Emphasis  with 
which  the  utility  of  virtue  was 
dwelt  upon  by  Aristotle,  124. 
Growth  of  the  gentler  virtues, 
132.  Forms  of  the  virtue  of 
truth,  industrial,  political,  and 
philosophical,  137.  Each  stage 
of  civilisation  is  specially  ap- 
propriate U some  virtue,  147. 
National  virtues,  151.  Virtues, 
naturally  grouped  together  accord- 
ing to  principles  of  affinity  or  con 
gruity,  153.  Distinctive  beauty 
of  a moral  type,  154.  Rudimeu- 


406 


INDEX. 


V7T 

.ary  virtues  differing  in  different 
nges,  nations,  and  classes,  154, 
155.  Four  distinct  motives 
leading  men  to  virtue,  178-180. 
Plato's  fundamental  proposition 
that  vice  is  to  virtue  what  disease 
is  to  health,  179.  Stoicism  the 
best  example  of  the  perfect  sever- 
ance of  virtue  and  self-interest, 
181.  Teachings  of  the  Stoics 
that  virtue  should  conceal  itself 
from  the  world,  186.  And  that 
the  obligation  should  be  distin- 
guished from  the  attraction  of 
virtue,  186.  The  eminent  cha- 
racteristics of  pagan  goodness, 
190.  All  virtues  are  the  same, 
according  to  the  Stoics,  192. 
Horace's  description  of  a just 
man,  197.  Interested  and  dis- 
interested motives  of  Christianity 
to  virtue,  ii.  3.  Decline  of  the 
civic  virtues  caused  by  asceticism, 
139.  Influence  of  this  change  on 
moral  philosophy,  146.  The  im- 
portance of  the  civic  virtues  ex- 
aggerated by  historians,  147. 
Intellectual  virtues,  188.  Rela- 
tion of  monachism  to  these  vir- 
tues, 189,  ct  scq. 

Xitalius,  St.,  legend  of,  and  the 
courtesan,  ii.  320 

Vivisection,  ii.  176.  Approved  by 
Bacon,  176,  note 

Volcanoes,  how  regarded  by  the 
early  monks,  ii.  221 

Vultures,  why  made  an  emblem  of 
nature  by  the  Egyptians,  i.  108, 
note 


TTAR,  its  moral  grandeur,  i.  95. 
V The  school  of  the  heroic  vir- 
tues, 173.  Difference  between 
foreign  and  civil  wars,  232.  An- 
tipathy of  the  early  Christians  to 
a military  life,  ii.  248.  Belief  in 
battle  being  the  special  sphere  of 


WOM 

Providential  interposition,  249. 
Effects  of  the  military  triumphs 
of  the  Mohammedans,  251.  In- 
fluences of  Christianity  upon  war 
considered,.  254.  Improved  con- 
dition of  captives  taken  in  war, 
256 

Warburton,  on  morals,  i.  15,  note, 
17,  note 

Waterland,  on  the  motives  to  virtue 
and  cause  of  our  love  of  God, 
quoted,  i.  9,  note,  15,  note 

Wealth,  origin  of  the  desire  to  pos- 
sess, i.  23.  Associations  leading 
to  the  desire  for,  for  its  own  sake, 
25 

Western  Empire,  general  sketch  of 
the  moral  condition  of  the,  ii.  14 

Widows,  care  of  the  early  Church 
for,  ii.  366 

Will,  freedom  of  the  human,  sus- 
tained and  deepened  by  the  asce- 
tic life,  ii.  123 

Wine,  forbidden  to  women,  i.  93, 
94,  note 

Witchcraft,  belief  in  the  reality  of, 
i.  363.  Suicide  common  among 
witches,  ii.  54 

Wollaston,  his  analysis  of  moral 
judgments,  i,  76 

Women,  law  of  the  Romans  forbid- 
ding women  to  taste  wine,  i.  93, 
94,  note.  Standards  of  female 
morality  of  the  Jews,  Greeks,  and 
Romans,  103,  104.  Virtues  and 
vices  growing  out  of  the  relations 
of  the  sexes,  143.  Female  virtue, 
143.  Effects  of  climate  on  this 
virtue,  144.  Of  large  towns,  146. 
And  of  early  marriages,  145. 
Reason  for  Plato’s  advocacy  of 
community  of  wives,  200.  Plu 
tarch’s  high  sense  of  female  excel- 
lence, 244.  Female  gladiators  at 
Rome,  281,  and  vote.  Relations  of 
female  devotees  with  the  anchor- 
ites, ii.  120,  128,  150.  Their  condi- 
tion in  savage  life,  276.  Cossa- 


INDEX. 


i07 


WOM 

don  of  the  sale  of  wives,  276. 
Rise  of  the  dowry,  277.  Estab- 
lishment of  monogamy,  278. 
Doctrine  of  the  Fathers  as  to 
concupiscence,  281.  Nature  of 
the  problem  of  the  relations  of  the 
sexes,  282.  Prostitution,  282- 
284.  Recognition  in  Greece  of 
two  distinct,  orders  of  woman- 
hood- tiie  wife  and  the  hetaera, 
287.  Condition  of  Roman  women. 
297.  ct  srq.  Legal  emancipation 
of  women  in  Rome,  30  1.  Un- 
bounded liberty  of  divorce,  306. 
Amount  of  female  virtue  .n  Im- 
perial Rome.  308-312.  Legisla- 
tive measures  to  repress  sensu- 
ality, 312.  To  enforce  the  reci- 
procity of  obligation  in  marriage, 
312.  And  to  censure  prostitu- 
tion, 315.  Influence  of  Chris- 
tianity on  the  position  of  women, 
316,  et  scq.  Marriages,  320. 
Second  marriages,  324.  Low 
opinion  of  women,  produced  by 
asceticism,  338.  The  canon  law 
unfavourable  to  their  proprietary 
rights,  338,  339.  Barbarian 

heroines  and  laws,  341-344. 
Doctrine  of  equality  of  obligation 
in  marriage,  346.  The  duty  of 
man  towards  woman,  347.  Con- 
demnation of  transitory  connec- 
tions, 350.  Roman  concubines, 
S51.  The  sinfulness  of  divorce 
maintained  by  the  Church,  350- 


ZEU 

353.  Abolition  of  compulsory 
marriages,  353.  Condemnation 
of  mixed  marriages,  353,  354. 
Education  of  women,  355.  Rela- 
tion of  Christianity  to  the  female 
virtues,  358.  Comparison  of  male 
and  female  characteristics,  358. 
The  Pagan  and  Christian  ideal 
of  woman  contrasted,  361-363. 
Conspicuous  part  of  woman  in 
the  early  Church.  363-365.  Caro 
of  widows,  067.  Worship  of  the 
Virgin,  36S,  369.  Effect  of  the 
suppression  of  tho  conventual 
system  on  women.  369.  Revolu- 
tion g'-ing on  in  the  employments 
of  women,  373 


XENOCRATES,  his  tenderness, 
ii.  163 

Xenophanes,  his  scepticism,  i.  162 
Xenophon,  his  picture  of  Greek 
married  life,  ii.  288 


ZADOK,  the  founder  of  the  Saddu- 
cees,  i.  183,  note 

Zeno,  vast  place  occupied  by  his 
system  in  the  moral  history  of 
man,  i.  171.  His  suicide,  212. 
His  inculcation  of  the  practice  of 
self-examination,  248 
Zeus,  universal  provide ce  attri- 
buted by  the  Greeks  to  i.  101 


T II  E 


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“To  have  given  in  a moderate  volume  the  main  points  in  a literature  almost  con- 
tinuous for  five  centunes  is  to  have  done  a marvelous  thing.  But  he  might  have  done 
it  dryly;  he  has  made  every  sentence  crisp  and  sparkling.” — Chicago  1 imes-Herald. 

“A  book  which  in  soundness  of  learning,  sanity  of  judgment,  and  attractiveness  of 
manner  has  not  been  equaled  by  the  work  of  any  other  author  who  has  sought  to 
analyze  the  elements  of  English  literature  in  a concise  and  authoritative  way.” — Boston 
Beacon . 


“ Thoroughly  enjoyable  from  first  to  last.  It  traces  the  growth  of  a literature  so 
clearly  and  simply,  that  one  is  apt  to  underrate  the  magnitude  of  the  undertaking. 

# Mr.  Gosse’s  charming  personality  pervades  it  all,  and  his  happy  manner  illuminates 
matter  that  has  been  worked  over  and  over  until  one  might  imagine  all  its  freshness 
gone.” — Chicago  Evening  Post. 

“ This  is  not  a mere  collection  of  brief  essays  on  the  merits  of  authors,  but  a con- 
tinuous story  of  the  growth  oflit-rature,  of  which  the  authors  and  their  works  are  only 
incidents.  The  book  is  lucid,  readable,  and  interesting,  and  a marvel  of  condensed 
information,  without  its  seeming  to  be  so.  It  can  be  read  by  nine  out  of  ten  intelligent 
people,  not  only  without  fatigue,  but  with  pleasure  ; and  when  it  is  finished  the  reader 
will  have  a comprehensive  and  intelligent  view  of  the  subject  which  will  not  only  enable 
him  to  talk  with  some  ease  and  confidence  upon  the  merits  of  the  principal  creators  of 
English  literature,  but  will  also  point  the  way  to  the  right  sources  if  he  wishes  to  sup- 
plement the  knowledge  which  he  has  derived  from  this  book.” — Pittsburg  Times. 

“That  he  has  been  a careful  student,  however,  in  many  departments,  the  most  un- 
related and  recondite,  is  evident  on  every  page,  in  the  orderly  arrangement  of  his 
multitudinous  materials,  in  the  accuracy  of  his  statements,  in  the  acuteness  of  his  crit- 
ical observations,  and  in  the  large  originality  of  most  of  his  verdicts.  He  says  things 
that  many  before  him  may  have  thought,  though  they  failed  to  express  them,  capturing 
their  fugitive  expressions  in  his  curt,  inevitable  phrases.” — N.  V.  Mail  and  Express. 


D.  APPLETON  AND  COMPAxNY,  NEW  YORK. 


D.  APPLETON  & CO.’S  PUBLICATIONS. 


ECOLLECTIONS  OF  THE  COURT  OF  THE 

TUILERIES.  By  Madame  Carette,  Lady-of-IIonor  to  the 
Empress  Eugenie.  Translated  from  the  French  by  Elizabeth 
Phipps  Train.  i2mo.  Cloth,  $1.00  ; paper  cover.  50  cents. 


<c  A gossiping  and  very  interesting  account  of  the  Second  Empire.  7 he  narrative 
has  to  do  mainly  with  the  social  life  of  the  court,  and  yet  it  offers  many  a glimpse  of 
the  larger  world  of  politics.  Its  sprightly  style,  its  keen  insight  into  social  character, 
and  its  bright  comments  on  men  and  events,  make  the  book  very  readable.” — The  Critic. 

“The  many  surviving  Americans  who  were  presented  at  the  French  court  during 
the  last  Empire,  and  are  still  fondly  cherishing  the  memory  of  things  as  they  were,  will 
be  delighted  with  this  little  book.  According  to  Mme.  Carette,  things  in  the  days  of 
the  third  Napoleon  were  about  as  they  should  be  in  Trance,  especially  at  court,  and 
the  narrative  is  written  with  a simplicity  and  sincerity  which  disarm  criticism.” — New 
York  Herald. 


M 


EM  O IRS  OF  MADAME  DE  REM  US  AT. 

1802-1808.  Edited  by  her  Grandson,  Taul  de  Remusat, 
Senator.  3 volumes,  crown  8vo.  Half  bound,  $2.25. 


“ Notwithstanding  the  enormous  library  of  works  relating  to  Napoleon,  we  know 
of  none  which  cover  precisely  the  ground  of  these  Memoirs.  Madame  de  Remusat 
was  not  only  lady  in-waiting  to  Josephine  during  the  eventful  years  1802-1808,  but 
was  her  intimate  friend  and  trusted  confidante.  Thus  we  get  a view  of  the  daily  life 
of  Bonaparte  and  his  wife,  and  the  terms  on  which  they  lived,  not  elsewhere  to  be 
found.” — N.  Y.  Mail. 


“ These  Memoirs  are  not  only  a repository  of  anecdotes  and  of  portraits  sketched 
from  life  by  a keen  eyed,  quick-witted  woman  ; some  of  the  author’s  reflections  on  social 
and  political  questions  are  remarkable  for  weight  and  penetration.” — New  i ork  Sun. 


SELECTION  FROM  THE  LETTERS  OF 

MADAME  DE  REMUSAT.  1804-1814.  Edited  by  her 
Grandson,  Paul  de  Remusat,  Senator.  i2mo.  Cloth,  $1.25. 


“ These  letters  have  the  character  of  intimate  correspondence,  and  though  they  do 
not  avoid  public  events,  are  not  devoted  to  them.  They  depict  the  social  aspect  of  the 
times,  and  form  an  excellent  background  against  which  to  review  the  public  events 
which  form  the  principal  subject  of  the  previous  Memoirs  by  the  same  author.” — The 
Independent. 

“ A most  attractive  volume.  The  letters  will  be  read  by  those  who  have  perused  the 
Memoirs  with  as  much  pleasure  as  by  those  who  in  them  make  the  writer’s  acquaintance 
for  the  first  time.” — N.  Y.  Herald. 

MEMOIRS  OF  NATO  LEON,  /Is  Court  and  Family. 

IV A By  the  Duchess  d’Abrantes.  In  2 volumes,  i2mo.  Cloth, 

$3.00. 

The  interest  excited  in  the  first  Napoleon  and  his  court  by  the  “ Memoirs  of 
Madame  de  Remusat,”  induced  the  publishers  to  issue  the  famous  “ Memoirs  of  the 
Duchess  d’Abrantes,”  which  had  previously  appeared  in  a costly  octavo  edition,  in  a 
much  cheaper  form,  and  in  a style  to  correspond  with  the  De  R6musat.  This  work 
presents  a much  more  favorable  portrait  of  the  great  Corsican  than  that  limned  by 
Madame  de  Remusat,  and  supplies  many  valuable  and  interesting  details  respecting 
the  court  and  family  of  Napoleon  which  are  found  in  no  other  work. 


New  York  : D.  APPLETON  & CO.,  72  Fifth  Avenue. 


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FRIEND  OF  THE  QUEEN.  (Marie  Antoinette 
; — Count  de  Fersen.)  By  Paul  Gaulot.  With  Two  Por- 
traits. i2mo.  Cloth,  $2. co. 


“M.  Gaulot  deserves  thanks  for  presenting  the  personal  history  of  Count  Fersen 
in  a manner  so  evidently  candid  and  unbiased.” — Philadelphia  Bulletin. 

“ There  are  some  characters  in  history  of  whom  we  never  seem  to  grow  tired.  Of 
no  one  is  this  so  much  the  case  as  of  the  beautiful  Marie  Antoinette,  and  of  that  life 
which  is  at  once  so  eventful  and  so  tragic.  ...  In  this  work  we  have  much  that  up 
to  the  present  time  has  been  only  vaguely  known.” — Philadelphia  Press . 

“ A historical  volume  that  will  be  eagerly  read.” — New  York  Observer. 

“ One  of  those  captivating  recitals  of  the  romance  of  truth  which  are  the  gilding  of 
the  pill  of  history.” — London  Daily  News. 

“ It  tells  with  new  and  authentic  details  the  romantic  story  of  Count  Fersen’s  (the 
friend  of  the  Queen)  devotion  to  Marie  Antoinette,  of  his  share  in  the  celebrated  flight 
to  Varennes,  and  in  many  other  well-known  episodes  of  the  unhappy  Queen’s  life.” — 
Londoji  Times. 

“ It  the  book  had  no  more  recommendation  than  the  mere  fact  that  Marie  Antoinette 
and  Count  Fersen  are  rescued  at  last  from  the  voluminous  and  contradictory  repre- 
sentations with  which  the  literature  of  that  period  abounds,  it  would  be  enough  com- 
pensation to  any  reader  to  become  acquainted  with  the  true  delineations  of  two  of  the 
most  romantically  tragic  personalities.” — Boston  Globe. 

“One  of  the  most  interesting  volumes  of  recent  publication,  and  sure  to  find  its  place 
among  the  most  noteworthy  of  historical  novels.” — Bos.  on  Times. 


7 


"HE  ROMANCE  OF  AN  EMPRESS.  Catherint 
//,  of  Russia . By  K.  Waliszewski.  With  Portrait.  l2mo. 
Cloth,  $2.00. 


“ Of  Catharine’s  marvelous  career  we  have  in  this  volume  a sympathetic,  learned, 
and  picturesque  narrative.  No  royal  career,  not  even  of  some  of  the  Roman  or  papal 
ones,  has  better  shown  us  how  truth  can  be  stranger  than  fiction.  ” — New  York  Times. 

“ A striking  and  able  work,  deserving  of  the  highest  praise.” — Philadelphia  Ledger. 

“The  book  is  well  called  a romance,  for,  although  no  legends  are  admitted  in  it. 
and  the  author  has  been  at  pains  to  present  nothing  but  verified  facts,  the  actual  career 
of  the  subject  was  so  abnormal  and  sensational  as  to  seem  to  belong  to  fiction.” — New 
York  Sun. 

“A  dignified,  handsome,  indeed  superb  volume,  and  well  worth  careful  reading.” 
— Chicago  Herald. 

“ It  is  a most  wonderful  story,  charmingly  told,  with  newjnaterial  to  sustain  it,  and 
a breadthxand  temperance  and  consideration  that  go  far  to  soften  one’s  estimate  of  one 
of  the  most  extraordinary  women  of  history.” — New  York  Commercial  Advertiser. 

“ A romance  in  v'hich  fiction  finds  no  place ; a charming  narrative  wherein  the 
author  fearlessly  presents  the  results  of  what  has  been  obviously  a thorough  and  im- 
partial investigation.” — Philadelphia  Press. 

“ The  book  makes  the  best  of  reading,  because  it  is  written  without  fear  or  favor. 

. . . The  volume  is  exceedingly  suggestive,  and  gives  to  the  general  reader  a plain, 
blunt,  str  >ng,  and  somewhat  prejudiced  hut  still  healthy  view  of  one  of  the  greatest 
women  of  whom  history  bears  record.” — New  York  Herald. 

“ The  perusal  of  such  a book  can  not  fail  to  add  to  that  breadth  of  view  which  is 
so  essential  to  the  student  of  universal  history.” — Philadelphia  Bulletin. 


New  York:  D.  APPLETON  & CO.,  72  Fifth  Avenue. 


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M 


EM O IRS  ILLUSTRATING  THE  HISTORY 

OF  NAPOLEON  /,  from  1802  to  1815.  By  Baron  Claude- 
Francois  de  Meneval,  Private  Secretary  to  Napoleon.  Eel- 
itecl  by  his  Grandson,  Baron  Napoleon  Joseph  de  Meneval, 
With  Portraits  and  Autograph  Letters.  In  three  volumes 
8vo.  Cloth,  $6.00. 


* The  Baron  de  Meneval  knew  Napoleon  as  few  knew  him.  He  was  his  confiden- 
tial secretary  and  intimate  friend.  . . . Students  and  historians  who  wish  to  form  a 
trustworthy  estimate  of  Napoleon  can  not  afford  to  neglect  this  testimony  by  one  of  his 
most  intimate  associates.” — Loudon  News. 

“These  Memoirs,  by  the  private  secretary  of  Napoleon,  are  a valuable  and  impor- 
tant contribution  to  the  history  of  the  Napoleonic  period,  and  necessarily  they  throw 
new  and  interesting  light  on  the  personality  and  real  sentiments  of  the  emperor.  If 
Napoleon  anywhere  took  off  the  mask,  it  was  in  the  seclusion  of  his  private  cabinet. 
The  Memoirs  have  been  republished  almost  as  they  were  written,  by  Baron  de  Mdneval's 
grandson,  with  the  addition  of  some  supplementary  documents.” — Lotidofi  limes . 

“ Meneval  has  brought  the  living  Napoleon  clearly  before  us  in  a portrait,  flattering, 
no  doubt,  but  essentially  true  to  nature ; and  he  has  shown  us  what  the  emperor  really 
was —at  the  head  of  his  armies,  in  his  Council  of  State,  as  the  ruler  of  France,  as  the 
lord  of  the  continent  — above  all,  in  the  round  of  his  daily  life,  and  in  the  circle  of  family 
and  home.” — London  Academy. 

“ Neither  the  editor  nor  translator  of  Meneval’s  Memoirs  has  miscalculated  his  deep 
interest— an  interest  which  does  not  depend  on  literary  st>le  but  on  the  substance  of 
what  is  related  Whoever  reads  this  volume  will  wait  with  impatience  for  the  remain- 
der.”— N.  Y.  Tribune. 

“ The  work  will  take  rank  with  the  most  important  of  memoirs  relating  to  the  period. 
Its  great  value  arises  largely  from  its  author’s  transparent  veracity.  M6neval  was  one 
of  those  men  who  could  not  consciously  tell  anything  but  the  truth.  He  was  constitu- 
tionally unfitted  for  lying.  . . . The  book  is  extremely  interesting,  and  it  is  as  impor- 
tant as  it  is  interesting.” — N.  V.  Times. 

“ Few  memorists  have  given  us  a more  minute  account  of  Napoleon.  . . . No  lovci 
of  Napoleon,  no  admirer  of  his  wonderful  genius,  can  fail  to  read  these  interesting  and 
important  volumes  which  have  been  waited  for  for  years.” — N.  Y.  World. 

“The  book  will  be  hailed  with  delight  by  the  collectors  of  Napoleonic  literature,  as 
it  covers  much  ground  wholly  unexplored  by  the  great  majority  of  the  biographers  of 
Napoleon.” — Pro  vide  nee  you  rn  a l. 

“ Mdueval  made  excellent  use  of  the  rare  opportunity  he  enjoyed  of  studying  closely 
and  at  close  range  the  personality  of  the  supreme  genius  in  human  history.'  — Phila- 
delphia Press. 

“ Of  all  the  memoirs  illustrating  the  history  of  the  first  Napoleon— and  their  num- 
ber is  a'most  past  counting — there  is  probably  not  one  which  will  be  found  of  more 
value  to  the  judicious  historian,  or  of  more  interest  to  the  general  reader,  than  these. 

. . . Meneval,  whose  Memoirs  were  written  nearly  fifty  years  ago,  had  nothing  either 
to  gain  or  to  lose ; his  work,  from  the  first  page  to  the  last,  impresses  the  reader  with  a 
deep  respect  for  the  author’s  talent,  as  well  as  his  absolute  honesty  and  loyalty.” — 
N.  1 '.  Independent. 

“These  Memoirs  constitute  an  important  contribution  to  the  understanding  of  Na- 
poleon’s character.  They  are  evidently  written  in  good  faith,  and,  as  the  writer  had 
remarkable  opportunities  of  observation,  they  must  be  accepted  as  authentic  testimony 
to  the  existence  in  Napoleon  of  gentle,  humane,  sympathetic,  and  amiable  qualitiesp 
with  which  he  has  not  been  often  credited.” — N.  Y.  Sun. 


New  York:  D.  APPLETON  & CO.,  72  Fifth  Avenue. 


D.  APPLETON  & CO.’S  PUBLICATIONS. 


ZD  A UL  AND  VIRGINIA.  By  Bernardin  de  Saint- 
Pierre.  With  a Biographical  Sketch,  and  numerous  Illustra- 
tions by  Maurice  Leloir.  8vo.  Cloth,  gilt  top,  uniform  with 
“ Picciola,”  “ The  Story  of  Colette,”  and  “ An  Attic  Philosopher 
in  Paris.”  $1.50. 

It  is  believed  that  this  standard  edition  of  “ Paul  and  Virginia"  with  Leloir’ s charm- 
ing illustrations  will  prove  a most  acceptable  addition  to  the  series  of  illustrated  foreign 
classics  in  which  D.  Appleton  & Co.  have  published  “The  Story  of  Colette,”  “An 
Attic  Philosopher  in  Paris,  and  “Picciola.”  No  more  sympathetic  illustrator  than 
Leloir  could  be  found,  and  his  treatment  of  this  masterpiece  of  French  literature  invests 
it  with  a peculiar  value. 


P 


ICCIOLA.  By  X.  B.  Saintine.  With  130  Illustra- 
tions by  J.  F.  Gueldry.  8vo.  Cloth,  gilt  top,  $1.50. 


“Saintine’s  ‘Picciola,’  the  pathetic  tale  of  the  prisoner  who  raised  a flower  between 
the  cracks  of  the  flagging  of  his  dungeon,  has  passed  definitely  into  the  list  of  classic 
books.  ...  It  has  never  been  more  beautifully  housed  than  in  this  edition,  with  its  flne 
typography,  binding,  and  sympathetic  illustrations  ” — Philadelphia  Telegraph. 

“The  binding  is  both  unique  and  tasteful,  and  the  book  commends  itself  strongly  as 
one  that  should  meet  with  general  favor  in  the  season  of  gift-making.” — Boston  Satur- 
day Evening  Gazette. 

“Most  beautiful  in  its  clear  type,  cream-laid  paper,  many  attractive  illustrations, 
and  holiday  binding.” — New  York  Observer. 


N ATTIC  PHILOSOPHER  IN  PARTS ; or,  A 

Peep  at  the  World  from  a Ga7'ret.  Being  the  Journal  of  a 
Happy  Man.  By  Emile  Souvestre.  With  numerous  Illustra- 
tions. 8vo.  Cloth,  gilt  top,  $1.50. 


“ A suitable  holiday  gift  for  a friend  who  appreciates  refined  literature.” — Boston 
Times. 

“The  influence  of  the  book  is  wholly  good.  The  volume  is  a particularly  hand- 
some one.” — Philadelphia  Telegraph. 

“It  is  a classic.  It  has  found  an  appropriate  reliquary.  Faithfully  translated, 
charmingly  illustrated  by  Jean  Claude  with  full-page  pictures,  vignettes  in  the  text,  and 
head  and  tail  pieces,  printed  in  graceful  type  on  handsome  paper,  and  bound  with  an 
art  worthy  of  Matthews,  in  half-cloth,  ornamented  on  the  cover,  it  is  an  exemplary  book, 
fit  to  be  ‘ a treasure  for  aye.’  ” — New  York  Times. 


T 


HE  STOR  V OF  COLETTE. 

edition.  With  36  Illustrations.  8vo. 

One  of  the  handsomest  of  the  books  of  fiction  for  the  holiday  season.” — Philadel- 


A new  large- paper 

Cloth,  gilt  top,  $1.50. 


phia  Bulletin. 


“ One  of  the  gems  of  the  season.  ...  It  is  the  story  of  the  life  of  young  womanhood 
in  France,  dramatically  told,  with  the  light  and  shade  and  coloring  of  the  genuine 
artist,  and  is  utterly  free  from  that  which  mars  too  many  French  novels.  In  its  literary 
finish  it  is  well-nigh  perfect,  indicating  the  hand  of  the  master.” — Boston  7 7-aveller. 


New  York:  D.  APPLETON  & CO.,  72  Fifth  Avenue. 


D.  APPLETON  & CO.’S  PUBLICATIONS. 


HE  REDS  OF  THE  MIDI.  An  Episode  of  the 

French  Revolution.  By  Felix  Gras.  Translated  from  the* 
Provencal  by  Mrs.  Catharine  A.  Janvier.  With  an  Intro* 
duction  by  Thomas  A.  Janvier.  With  Frontispiece.  I2mc 
Cloth,  $1.50. 


“It  is  doubtful  whether  in  the  English  language  we  have  had  a more  powerful, 
impressive,  artistic  picture  of  the  French  Revolution,  from  the  revolutionist’s  point  of 
view,  than  that  presented  in  F<51ix  Gras’s  ‘The  Reds  of  the  Midi.'  . . . Adventures 
follow  one  another  rapidly ; splendid,  brilliant  pictures  are  frequent,  and  the  thread  of 
a tender,  beautiful  love  story  winds  in  and  out  of  its  pages.” — New  York  Mail  and 
Express. 

“‘The  Reds  of  the  Midi’  is  a red  rose  from  Provence,  a breath  of  pure  air  in 
the  stifling  atmosphere  of  present  day  romance — a stirring  narrative  of  one  of  the  most 
picturesque  events  of  the  Revolution  It  is  told  with  all  the  strength  of  simplicity 
and  directness;  it  is  warm  and  pulsating,  and  fairly  trembles  with  excitement." — 

Chicago  Record. 

“ To  the  names  of  Dickens,  Hugo,  and  Erckmann-Chatrian  must  be  added  that  of 
F61x  Gras,  as  a romancer  who  has  written  a tale  of  the  French  Revolution  not  only 
possessing  historical  interest,  but  charming  as  a story.  A delightful  piece  of  literature, 
of  a rare  and  exquisite  flavor." — Buffalo  Express. 

“No  more  forcible  presentation  of  the  wrongs  which  the  poorer  classes  suffered  in 
France  at  the  end  of  the  eighteenth  century  has  ever  been  put  between  the  covers  of 
a book.” — Boston  Budget. 

“Every  page  is  alive  with  incidents  or  scenes  of  the  time,  and  any  one  who  reads 
it  will  get  a vivid  picture  that  can  never  be  forgotten  of  the  Reign  of  Terror  in  Paris." 

— San  Francisco  Chronicle. 

“ The  author  has  a rare  power  of  presenting  vivid  and  lifelike  pictures.  He  is  a 
true  artist.  . . His  warm,  glowing,  Provengal  imagination  sees  that  tremendous 
battalion  of  death  even  as  the  no  less  warm  and  glowing  imagination  of  Carlyle  saw  it.” 
— London  Daily  Chronicle. 

“ Of  ‘ The  Reds  of  theMidi  ’ itself  it  is  safe  to  predict  that  the  story  will  become  one 
of  the  most  widely  popular  stories  of  the  next  few  months.  It  certainly  deserves  such 
appreciative  recognition,  for  it  throbs  with  vital  interest  in  every  line.  . . . The  charac- 
ters are  living,  stirring,  palpitating  human  beings,  who  will  glow  in  the  reader’s  memory 
long  after  he  has  turned  over  the  last  pages  of  this  remarkably  fascinating  book.” — 
London  Daily  Mail. 

“ A delightful  romance.  . . . The  story  is  not  only  historically  accurate;  it  is  one 
,f  continuous  and  vivid  interest” — Philadelphia  Press. 

“ Simply  enthralling.  . . . The  narrative  abounds  in  vivid  descriptions  of  stirring 
incidents  and  wonderfully  attractive  depictions  of  character.  Indeed,  one  might  almost 
say  of  ‘ The  Reds  of  the  Midi’  that  it  has  all  the  fire  and  forcefulness  of  the  elder 
Dumas,  with  something  more  than  Dumas’s  faculty  for  dramatic  compression.” — 
Boston  Beacon. 

“ A charmingly  told  story,  and  all  the  more  delightful  because  of  the  unstudied 
simplicity  of  the  spokesman,  Pascalet.  F61ix  Gras  is  a true  artist,  and  he  has  pleaded 
the  cause  of  a hated  people  with  the  tact  and  skill  that  only  an  artist  could  employ.” — 

Chicago  Evening  Post. 

“Much  excellent  revolutionary  fiction  in  many  languages  has  been  written  since 
the  announcement  of  the  expiration  of  1889,  or  rather  since  the  contemporary  publica- 
tion of  old  war  records  newly  discovered,  but  there  is  none  more  vivid  than  this  story 
of  men  of  the  south,  written  by  one  of  their  own  blood." — Boston  Herald. 


New  York  : D.  APPLETON  & CO.,  72  Fifth  Avenue. 


D.  APPLETON  AND  COMPANY’S  PUBLICATIONS. 


THE  SUCCESSOR  TO  “ LOOKING  BACKWARD.” 


QUALITY.  By 

$1.25. 


Edward  Bellamy. 


i2mo.  Cloth, 


“The  book  is  so  full  of  ideas,  so  replete  with  suggestive  aspects,  so  rich 
in  quotable  parts,  as  to  form  an  arsenal  of  argument  for  apostles  of  the  new 
democracy.  . . . The  humane  and  thoughtful  reader  will  lay  down  ‘ Equality  ’ 
and  regard  the  world  about  him  with  a feeling  akin  to  that  with  which  the 
child  of  the  tenement  returns  from  his  ‘ country  week’  to  the  foul  smells,  the 
discordant  noises,  the  incessant  strife  of  the  wonted  environment.  Immense 
changes  are  undoubtedly  in  store  for  the  coming  century.  The  industrial 
transformations  of  the  world  for  the  past  hundred  years  seem  to  assure  for 
the  next  hundred  a mutation  in  social  conditions  commensurately  radical. 
The  tendency  is  undoubtedly  toward  human  unity,  social  solidarity.  Science 
will  more  and  more  make  social  evolution  a voluntary,  self-directing  process 
on  the  part  of  man.” — Sylvester  Baxter,  in  the  Review  of  Reviews. 

“ 1 Equality’  is  a greater  book  than  1 Looking  Backward,’  while  it  is  more 
powerful ; and  the  smoothness,  the  never-failing  interest,  the  limpid  clear- 
ness and  the  simplicity  of  the  argument,  and  the  timeliness,  will  make  it 
extremely  popular.  Here  is  a book  that  every  one  will  read  and  enjoy. 
Rant  there  is  none,  but  the  present  system  is  subjected  to  a searching  arraign- 
ment. Withal,  the  story  is  bright,  optimistic,  and  cheerful.” — Boston  Herald. 

“ Mr.  Bellamy  has  bided  his  time — the  full  nine  years  of  Horace’s  counsel. 
Calmly  and  quietly  he  has  rounded  out  the  vision  which  occurred  to  him.  . . . 
That  Mr.  Bellamy  is  earnest  and  honest  in  his  convictions  is  evident.  That 
hundreds  of  earnest  and  honest  men  hold  the  same  convictions  is  also  evident. 
Will  the  future  increase,  or  decrease,  the  number  ? ” — New  York  Herald.  ' 

“ So  ample  was  Mr.  Bellamy’s  material,  so  rich  is  his  imaginative  power, 
that  1 Looking  Backward  ’ scarcely  gave  him  room  to  turn  in.  . . . The 
betterment  of  man  is  a noble  topic,  and  the  purpose  of  Mr.  Bellamy’s  1 Equal- 
ity ’ is  to  approach  it  with  reverence'.  The  book  will  raise  many  discussions. 
The  subject  which  Mr.  Bellamy  writes  about  is  inexhaustible,  and  it  has  never- 
failing  human  interest.” — New  York  Times. 

“ ‘ Equality'  deserves  praise  for  its  completeness.  It  shows  the  thought 
and  work  of  years.  It  apparently  treats  of  every  phase  of  its  subject.  . . . 
Altogether  praiseworthy  and  very  remarkable.” — Chicago  Tribune. 

“ There  is  no  question  at  all  about  the  power  of  the  author  both  as  the 
teller  of  a marvelous  story  and  as  the  imaginative  creator  of  a scheme  of 
earthly  human  happiness.  1 Equality  ’ is  profoundly  interesting  in  a great 
many  different  ways.” — Boston  Daily  Advertiser. 

“ A vastly  interesting  work,  and  those  who  feel  in  the  air  the  coming  of 
great  social,  industrial,  and  economical  changes,  whether  they  hope  for  or 
fear  them,  will  find  ‘ Equality  ’ the  most  absorbing  reading.  The  ready  sale 
of  the  first  installment  of  the  book  shows  how  real  and  general  the  concern 
in  these  questions  has  grown  to  be.” — Springfield  Republican. 


D.  APPLETON  AND  COMPANY,  NEW  YORK. 


D.  APPLETON  & CO.’S  PUBLICATIONS. 


G 


ERMANY  AND  THE  GERMANS.  By  Wil- 
liam Harbutt  Dawson,  author  of  “German  Socialism  and 


Ferdinand  Lassalle,”  “ Prince  Bismarck  and  State  Socialism,” 
etc.  2 vols.,  8vo.  Cloth,  $6.00. 


“ This  excellent  work — a literary  monument  of  intelligent  and  conscientious  labof 
-—deals  with  every  phase  and  aspect  of  state  and  political  activity,  public  and  private, 
in  the  Fatherland.  . . . Teems  with  entertaining  anecdotes  and  introspective  aperfus 
of  character.” — London  Telegraph. 

“With  Mr.  Dawson’s  two  volumes  before  him,  the  ordinary  reader  may  well  dis- 
pense with  the  perusal  of  previous  authorities.  . . . His  work,  on  the  whole,  is  com- 
prehensive, conscientious,  and  eminently  fair.” — London  Chronicle. 

“Mr.  Dawson  has  made  a remarkably  close  and  discriminating  study  of  Herman 
life  and  institutions  at  the  present  day,  and  the  results  of  his  observations  are  set  forth 
in  a most  interesting  manner.” — Brooklyn  Times. 

“There  is  scarcely  any  phase  of  German  national  life  unnoticed  in  his  comprehen- 
sive survey.  . . . Mr.  Dawson  has  endeavored  to  write  from  the  view-point  of  a sincere 
yet  candid  well-wisher,  of  an  unprejudiced  observer,  who,  even  when  he  is  unable  to 
approve,  speaks  his  mind  in  soberness  and  kindness.” — New  York  Sun. 

“ There  is  much  in  German  character  to  admire  ; much  in  Germany’s  life  and  insti- 
tutions from  which  Americans  may  learn.  William  Harbutt  Dawson  has  succeeded  in 
making  this  fact  clearer,  and  his  work  will  go  far  to  help  Americans  and  Germans  to 
know  each  other  better  and  to  respect  each  other  more.  . . . It  is  a remarkable  and  a 
fascinating  work.” — Chicago  Evening  Tost. 

“ One  of  the  very  best  works  on  this  subject  which  has  been  published  up  to  date.” 
— New  York  Herald. 


HIS  TOR  V OF  GERMANY , from  the  Earliest 
Times  to  the  Present  Day.  By  Bayard  Taylor.  With  an 
Additional  Chapter  by  Marie  Hansen-Taylor.  With  Por- 
trait and  Maps.  l2mo.  Cloth,  $1.50. 


“There  is,  perhaps,  no  work  of  equal  size  in  any  language  which  gives  a better 
view  of  the  tortuous  course  of  German  history.  Now  that  the  story  of  a race  is  to  be 
in  good  earnest  a story  of  a nation  as  well,  it  begins,  as  every  one,  whether  German  or 
foreign,  sees,  to  furnish  unexpected  and  wonderful  lessons.  But  these  can  only  be 
understood  in  the  light  of  the  past.  Taylor  could  end  his  work  with  the  birth  of  the 
Empire,  but  the  additional  narrative  merely  foreshadows  the  events  of  the  future.  It 
may  be  that  all  the  doings  of  the  past  ages  on  German  soil  are  but  the  introduction  of 
what  is  to  come.  That  is  certainly  the  thought  which  grows  upon  one  as  he  peruses 
this  volume.” — New  York  Tribune. 


“When  one  considers  the  confused,  complicated,  and  sporadic  elements  of  German 
history,  it  seems  scarcely  possible  to  present  a clear,  continuous  narrative.  Yet  this  is 
what  Bayard  Taylor  did.  He  omitted  no  episode  of  importance,  and  yet  managed  to 
preserve  a main  line  of  connection  from  century  to  century  throughout  the  narrative.” 

— Philadelphia  Ledger. 

“A  most  excellent  short  history  of  Germany.  . . . Mrs.  Taylor  has  done  well  the 
work  she  reluctantly  consented  to  undertake.  Her  story  is  not  only  clearly  told,  but 
told  in  a style  that  is  quite  consistent  with  that  of  the  work  which  she  completes.  . . . 
As  a matter  of  course  the  history  excels  in  its  literary  style.  Mr.  Taylor  could  not 
have  written  an  unentertaining  book.  This  book  arouses  interest  in  its  opening  chapter 
and  maintains  it  to  the  very  end.” — New  York  Times. 

“ Probably  the  best  work  of  its  kind  adapted  for  school  purposes  that  can  be  had  in 
English.” — Boston  Herald. 


New  York  : D.  APPLETON  Sc  CO.,  72  Fifth  Avenue, 


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